Control
by Teris24
Summary: Yukari has finally gone off the deep end, and Nyamo is the only one around who cares enough to ask why. Shoujoai, lemon, violence, drug content, language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R for language, drug content, violence, and explicit sexual content.

**Note:** Obviously this story does not follow the original Azumanga Daioh storyline. That's what makes it a fan fiction, and a rather sick one at that. Don't ask me why I wrote it. I love Yukari. She's cute, adorably self-centered, and adamant in her refusal to mature and take responsibility for her life. So with all of her short-comings, lost popularity contests with Nyamo, quick resorts to alcohol, apathy towards her students, and sadistic tendencies in the face of harmless cute things, one might wonder how she lives with herself or why she is the way that she is. Or at least _I_ wondered about it. This story is the result.

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**Control**

Early to bed, early to rise was one of many philosophies used by Minamo Kurosawa. A renowned and rational high school P.E. teacher, Nyamo's young age made no difference against her high level of self discipline. Whether on weekdays or weekends, she kept herself on a steady schedule that included healthy sleeping habits, usually having her in bed no later than ten o'clock. Other women her age may have classified her as a boring prude because of this, but it was more because of that fact that Nyamo had several responsibilities that extended outside of regular working hours. She wasn't a prude, nor was she boring. She was an adult living in an adult life, though a rather uneventful one. One downside to living in a world of schedules and routines was the saddening reality that some things would simply never change.

It was 2:14 one morning when Nyamo found herself groggily blinking her eyes open. For a moment she laid there, focusing on the blurry green numbers of her alarm clock. Usually when she woke up in such a fashion it was because of an outside occurrence like a dog barking or people talking loudly out on the street as they made their way home from bars, yet on this night all remained silent. The clock on the opposite wall ticked softly, and outside her window a lone cricket chirped. She groaned and let her eyes close once more. The mind was an odd thing sometimes. Perhaps her dream had ended.

Suddenly the sound of someone knocking at her front door echoed through the small apartment. Nyamo started into a half sitting position, dark blue eyes shot open with sharp awareness. That must have been the sound that woke her in the first place.

"Who in the..." She frowned and sifted a hand back through her tussled black hair. Anyone who paid visits at 2 AM was either crazy or just downright ignorant of common courtesy. Either that or it was an emergency, or maybe just some kids playing a prank.

Grumbling to herself, she tossed the blankets off and twisted to set her feet on the floor. She was only dressed in a tank top and a pair of pajama pants but if someone was calling on her at this hour then she wasn't exactly obligated to look her best. Not bothering to grab her robe from the bathroom door she crossed to the front threshold and lifted her hand to grasp the door knob.

"Who is it?" Her tone carried more than a hint of her annoyance at having been woken up. Whether or not she would even unlock the door would depend on who it was.

"Shut up and open the door would ya!" A voice, distinctly female and very familiar, replied boisterously from the other side. Nyamo groaned again and rolled her eyes skyward. She should have known that if anyone was going to come and bug her at 2 AM, it was going to be Yukari.

Yukari had been Nyamo's best friend and worst pain in the ass since high school. In terms of personality, they were polar opposites. While Nyamo was organized and responsible, Yukari was wild and all over the place. It was a wonder that she had ever qualified to be a language teacher. She was no better than some of her most immature students at times. She was rambunctious and brash, and most of the people who knew her couldn't stand her fabricated sense of superiority. Despite these undesirable characteristics, Nyamo had remained a loyal friend to Yukari, partially to keep an eye on her and make sure that she stayed out of trouble, and partly because of a faint sense of obligation.

With a heavy sigh, Nyamo unlocked the dead bolt and threw open the door.

"Yukari, what in the Hell are you-"The blunt demand was abruptly choked off, her eyes growing wide with a mixture of shock and alarm as she looked at the wreck of a woman on her doorstep.

Yukari leaned heavily against the door frame. Her hair was a mess, her sweater was torn and missing most of its buttons, her skirt was smudged with dirt, and among other visible bruises around her neck and collar bone she sported a bloody lip and one black eye; however, none of that was more disturbing than the empty smile plastered across her face.

"Long time no see, yeah? Ya gonna lemme in or what?" The language teacher suddenly burst into a fit of hollow laughter. She seemed completely unaware of the fact that she was injured and showing up at her friend's house instead of a hospital.

"Yukari!" Nyamo hardly knew what to think. There had been times in the past when Yukari had gotten drunk and retreated to her friend's house, unable to return to her own, but not like this. She had seen Yukari drunk and this was something beyond simple intoxication. Quickly she stepped forward and circled an arm around the slouching woman's shoulders to help her into the apartment. Yukari only laughed louder, nearly falling when she tripped over the doorstep.

"You're not...gonna believe it, Nyamo!" Remaining completely oblivious to her own condition, Yukari slung her arm around the sober woman to help keep her balance. She had no real idea of what she was doing or even where she had been or where she was. She had come to her friend's apartment simply by following a vague sense of familiarity that had seeped through the drunken state of her mind. To her, she had done this a million times before and it was just the thing to do.

"Dammit, Yukari! How many times have I told you about this? What the Hell happened to you?" Nyamo led the stumbling teacher through the living room one tedious step at a time. She had never so much wanted to be angry at her friend for pulling this kind of stuff, but right now she was too concerned to be mad. Yukari looked as though she had been beaten pretty badly. She could only hope that those injuries had in some way been self-inflicted, but the more logical part of her mind knew better.

Eventually the two managed to stumble into the bathroom where Nyamo flicked on the light and carefully set her charge down on the closed lid of the toilet. Yukari growled and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the bright illumination.

"Damn!...I see how it is now...I gotta have a reason to visit? You too good tospend a little time...with yer best gal pal?"

Nyamo ignored the retort, uttering curses under her breath as she grabbed a washcloth from under the sink. She quickly soaked the washcloth under running water then wrung it out to fold into a square. She then moved to crouch down in front of Yukari who had hugged her arms tight around herself and was rocking slightly, her eyes traveling around the bathroom as though she had never seen one before in her life.

"Honestly, I don't know what gets into you sometimes." Nyamo's expression hardly softened as she took Yukari's chin between her fingers and set to work with the washcloth to wipe away the blood and dirt. Yukari only giggled, seeming not to notice when her body flinched once to the cold touch of the cloth.

"Men!"

"That's not what I meant"

"Ya know, you dun have a boy friend."

"Neither do you."

"Shut yer face, woman! Ima tell you somethin'—now!"

"Just...be quiet."

There was no use in talking to Yukari right now. What Nyamo had really wanted to say was 'why do you do this to yourself?', but she wouldn't have gotten a meaningful answer. Looking carefully at the slouching woman she paid particular attention to her eyes. The normally vibrant brown hues were dulled and dilated with the effects of excessive intoxication; her eyes were open but it was clear that she was off in another world. Yukari had never been this bad before, and for a moment Nyamo wondered what had driven her to such an extent. Had she just been partying so hard that she got in a fight and didn't even realize it? Somehow that notion wasn't satisfying. No one got this drunk for the sake of having fun.

Once Yukari was sufficiently cleaned up, Nyamo set the washcloth aside and got up on her knees.

"Let's at least get you into something more comfortable. There's no way I'm letting you into my bed in those clothes."

Yukari suddenly straightened and threw her arms out to the side with a stubborn frown.

"Silence! I've...got control...under everything..." With that outburst she let her chin fall limply to her chest and brought her hands up to the first button of the sweater, one of two that still remained closed. Nyamo sighed and sat back on her heels, but after five minutes of watching the drunken woman fidget with the button she shook her head and straightened again to push her hands aside.

"You're hopeless. Now sit still and be quiet."

It was nearly twenty minutes later that Nyamo emerged from the bathroom with Yukari's clothes in her arms. Altogether there had been the sweater, shirt, ankle length skirt, socks, shoes, bra, and panties which were thankfully unsoiled. Removing them should have qualified as an event for the Olympics. If Yukari wasn't tensed and jittering then she was completely limp and slouching from the toilet. As Nyamo would remove a piece of clothing, Yukari would reach for another to slip on with the claim that it was late and she should be on her way. As if Yukari wasn't hard enough to deal with when she was sober, she was just as childish when she was drunk. For the hundredth time Nyamo wondered why she even bothered, but even as she did, she already knew the answer. It was because _someone_ had to. Setting parental figures aside, she was the only one in Yukari's life who could stand her antics, even if she didn't entirely understand them.

She dropped the clothes into the laundry hamper then went to her dresser to grab an extra pair of boxers and a shirt. Upon her return to the bathroom she would stop suddenly in the doorway and blink.

"Uh...Yukari?"

An odd site indeed. In the few moments that she had been away, Yukari had somehow lifted from the toilet seat and dragged herself into the bathtub where she laid curled up on her side, fast asleep and drooling. Nyamo walked forward and set the clothing articles by the sink, then crouched down by the edge of the tub. Her brow was furrowed with thoughtful concern as she reached her hand in and touched the back of her knuckles to Yukari's forehead. She was ice cold.

This had gone on long enough. She shifted forward over the edge of the tub and slipped her arms under the limp form inside. With a pained expression she hauled the dead weight up into her arms, a Herculean accomplishment considering the awkward position and the fact that she wasn't a body builder. Yukari snorted when the two fell backwards against the bathroom floor, yet she failed to stir beyond that.

Nyamo extricated herself from the nude form with a stoic frown. Nudity didn't embarrass her, and she wasn't entirely modest herself, but the situation was very awkward and she could only imagine what would have happened if somehow a picture of the scene was taken and made public. Both of their careers would have been over for the rest of their lives, Yukari's for several reasons.

Yukari was surprisingly easier to work with when she was unconscious. Nyamo had little difficulty slipping the boxers onto her legs and up around her hips, but it was when she pulled the shirt down over her head that she paused and did a small double take. She had Yukari's wrist in her hand and was sliding it through the shirt sleeve when she noticed a small imperfection on the crook of the language teacher's arm. Straightening the shirt, she took Yukari's elbow and turned it so the inner bend of it faced upward. The red dot was small, almost unnoticeable had it not had the smallest bit of blood around it. As part of her training as a P.E. teacher Nyamo had gone through several classes in first aid and she knew a puncture site when she saw one.

"God...dammit...Yukari..." The words escaped as little more than a hushed whisper. So that's what it had been. Nyamo's expression fell even more, not only with concern, but with sadness as well. Those kinds of marks weren't the kind that a person got by accident. It was a good explanation for Yukari's neurotic behavior that night.

Carefully the fatigued teacher got to her knees, once again to haul her unconscious friend into her arms and make her way from the bathroom. She would get her answers in the morning, one way or another. She wasn't going to let Yukari do this again, even if it could potentially put them on bad terms. Yukari was stubborn and hard headed to the point of absurdity, but someone had to pound some reality into that thick skull of hers before something irreversible happened.

One hundred and fifteen pounds worth of dead weight made the trip from the bathroom to the bed a very long and precarious one. Nyamo grunted a sigh of relief when she finally set her burden down on the near edge of the mattress. Tucking the sheets up around the sleeping form, she took a moment to examine Yukari in her unguarded state.

The only time that anyone could actually look at Yukari was when she was sleeping. When she was awake she was always so dynamic, the two extremes of her personality being happiness and anger. She never showed remorse or contemplation, and she never seemed to have a down moment when she actually thought about what she was doing. Even when she was at a situational disadvantage, like losing one of the many competitions she staged, she was a master at shrugging off the defeat and manipulating the facts to her benefit. She was indeed quite impossible to insult. It was remarkable how she could be so simple, yet so complex at the same time. No matter what may have been going on inside her head, which might not have been much at all, she always lived her life as though she had not a care in the world.

In sleep, however, none of that showed through. Her expression was void of energy, almost softened in a way. Her jaw wasn't clenched, her eyebrows weren't furrowed or raised into high arches, and Nyamo decided that she was actually a fairly attractive young woman. Yukari could be very successful with men if they only saw her while she slept. She may have looked just as attractive while she was awake, but her personality would be enough to drive them off.

With a solemn shake of her head, Nyamo climbed over to the other side of the small bed and slipped under the covers. She laid on her back and folded her hands gently on her stomach, allowing her eyes to close. She doubted that she would be getting back to sleep, but she wanted to stay awake anyway just in case Yukari did anything else during the night. For her repeated efforts to help, Nyamo was definitely a better friend than Yukari deserved. Anyone would have agreed to that, but Yukari had never thanked her for anything, and there was little chance that she had the mind to do so. Still, Nyamo accepted this because, after all, there was no one else who would.

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N**ote:** Please R&R and all that. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of these characters.  
  
Thanks to all who read and reviewed. :)  
  
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**Chapter 2**

The next morning Nyamo awoke to one of the most high-pitched, blood curdling screams she had ever heard. In a sudden tangle of bed sheets she became air borne and tumbled off the side of the mattress.  
  
"What?! What is it?!"  
  
Yukari had scrambled from the bed and landed on the floor as well, grabbing the first thing that came within reach of her hand. A broom.  
  
"Intruder!" The disoriented brunette leapt to her feet and lunged at the unsuspecting Nyamo who was only just beginning to free herself from the mess of bed sheets. Nyamo looked up with eyes wide and made a last minute roll to the side just as the end of the broom connected with the floor mere inches from her head.  
  
"What the Hell're you doing Yukari?!" She shouted angrily and scooted further away from the armed and dangerous attacker. "It's me! Nyamo!"  
  
Yukari wielded the broom above her head like a professional Samurai warrior.  
  
"I know!" Again the broom fell in a wild arc.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"You're one to talk! What're you doing in my house!?"  
  
"What the-...This is my house!"  
  
"Yeah I thought you'd say something like that! Get out!"  
  
"Yukari!"  
  
Furniture was knocked over, glass broken, and tables upturned before finally, after Yukari made yet another swipe with the broom, Nyamo lounged forward and grabbed her by the ankles. With one strong yank she sent her would-be attacker falling backwards to land flat on her back. Yukari switched her grip on the broom to hold in both hands and was about to leap back to her feet when Nyamo lunged forward and grabbed the broom as well. Straddled atop the fuming brunette she pushed the broom handle down until it pressed just slightly into the base of Yukari's throat. In terms of behaving like a maniac, Yukari could beat almost anyone. Luckily Nyamo had an advantage of strength to keep her under control when she needed to, and it was too bad that Yukari seemed to have been scared out of her hang over.  
  
"Stupid P.E. teachers...Damn you and your little weight set too!" Yukari growled and struggled futilely to shove the other woman off. She tried pushing up on the broom, kicking her legs, thrashing from side to side, and even gnawing on the broom handle. Nyamo simply glared down at her without a word. Just like she would have treated a child who was having a temper tantrum, she waited for Yukari to give up and settle down.  
  
Fifteen minutes later the exhausted language teacher fell back against the floor to catch her breath. "I see.....how it is. You've finally snapped......and now you're here....to hold me for ransom...."  
  
Nyamo's frown only deepened. It was hard to tell sometimes whether or not Yukari was being serious, but she was in no mood to indulge her ridiculous claims.  
  
"First of all, I'm not the one who's snapped. Second of all, if I was going to hold a person for ransom then it would be someone who would get me a decent amount of money."  
  
"Hey! I'll have-"  
  
"Shut up!" The athletics teacher snapped viciously. She was tired of playing verbal ping pong. With Yukari it always led to a dead end and she wasn't going to put up with her crap anymore. "Where were you last night." She didn't ask for an answer. Clearly she demanded one. Yukari furrowed her brows as though Nyamo had just lost her mind.  
  
"But you just told me to-"  
  
"Answer the question!"  
  
There was a minute of silence as Yukari pouted and turned her head to the side, for the first time breaking her gaze from the livid woman above her. Nyamo was so damn stubborn all the time. It was impossible to understand why the students liked her so much.  
  
".....I was at the bank, like it's any of your business."  
  
"Gee, that's funny! I don't remember any banks around here that have a happy hour! And what about this?" Nyamo let go of the broom with one hand to grab Yukari's wrist and yank her arm upward. The puncture wound she had seen the other night was still visible in the crook of her elbow. "I suppose that when banks host happy hours they serve drinks and narcotics too, huh?"  
  
Yukari's teeth bore on each other as she glared angrily and pried her wrist away from the offending grip.  
  
"It was a blood bank!"  
  
"Bull shit! I bet you went out, got drunk, met some guy who hooked you up and then later beat the shit out of you when he found out that you didn't have any money!" Nyamo sat up and yanked the broom from Yukari's hands to send the tool flying across the room. It smashed into a ceramic vase, shards scattering everywhere. It didn't matter much. The apartment was already a total wreck. Yukari took advantage of the moment and shoved the other woman off of her, nails digging into her palms as she stood.  
  
It wouldn't have been correct to say that Yukari was broke, though it was still true that she never carried money with her when she went out. No one would have known this better than Nyamo. She had other methods of getting drinks, whether it was mooching off of her friend or flirting with the right guy just enough.  
  
"You can't pull this over on me! You're just jealous because the guys always like _me_ better! Me!" She pointed her thumb to her chest then turned and stormed to the front door. She didn't want to argue with Nyamo right now, mostly because she didn't remember anything about the previous night. That was a frightening thing to think about, so naturally she did what any well-rounded and sensible woman would have done. She didn't think about it at all. She simply lumped it together with all the other nights that she didn't remember.  
  
Walking out onto the street, Yukari wasn't modest enough to care that she was only in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. She didn't know what time it was but people were already out and about, several casting odd glances at her as she passed them on her way to the nearest intersection. "Damn Nyamo...Who does she think she is talking to me like that? Like she's some kind of perfect, stupid, boring....stupid teacher!"  
  
Back in the apartment Nyamo had gotten to her feet and watched her friend stalk off. With a shake of her head she went over to pick up the broom and set about cleaning up the mess that had once been a vase. It would probably take the better portion of the afternoon to get her apartment straightened back up.  
  
"Whatever...She can be that way all she wants. She's not hurting anyone but herself," she muttered with seething resentment. She actually had no proof that the mark on Yukari's arm had been caused by a drug injection, but her gut instinct wouldn't let her think otherwise. The excuse of having gone to a blood bank just might have worked for anyone else, but Yukari wouldn't have gone that far out of her way to do a good deed. Nyamo's frown deepened. Yukari knew what she was doing and one day she would regret it. Some day down the road she was going to end up dead in a gutter and she would have no one to blame but herself.  
  
It took a minute but that thought eventually made the athlete pause in her work. Her expression softened slightly in resignation.  
  
"Why do I keep doing this," she sighed and let the broom drop to the floor. Jogging from her apartment she stopped out on the sidewalk and looked both ways down the street. Yukari was nowhere to be found amid the individuals that passed by, and she didn't hear any people yelling or things blowing up that would have indicated the language teacher's presence. No doubt Yukari, without a cent on her and no intention of paying anyway, had hailed a cab to return to her own house. Nyamo sighed once more and shook her head. Perhaps it was better to let her friend cool down before she approached her. Hopefully Yukari would be showing up for her classes tomorrow, beaten up as she was.

  
  
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Once she was back home Yukari barged through the front door and slammed it behind her. Not satisfied with the entrance she opened the door again and slammed it until she heard a picture in the other room crash to the ground.  
  
"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.....!" She made it a point to stomp her feet as loud as she could up the stairs and then down the hallway to her room where she slammed that door as well. She couldn't remember the last time that she had been so furious. With no idea what to do with herself she paced back and forth and ran a hand back through her unkempt hair.  
  
"Nyamo....dammit... doesn't know what she's....she doesn't.....Damn! Why can't I remember?" While she wanted nothing more than to focus her anger solely on Nyamo, gradually her animosity had turned towards herself. Nyamo's accusations weren't as important as the fact that she had no recollection of actual events to argue otherwise. They would come back to her eventually though. They always did, and _when _they did she would give her friend what for.  
  
From her room she walked into the bathroom where she flicked on the light and moved to stand in front of the mirror. Hands gripping the edges of the sink, she leaned forward and took a good, long look at her reflection. The bruise around her eye and the open wound on her lip stared back with blaring reality. Gently she lifted her hand and let her fingertips touch the aggravated injustice done to her lower lip. The pain that resulted was definitely real. It wasn't the first time that she had been unable to recall the previous night, but it was the first time that she had woken up with physical injuries. Brown eyes cast downward to the bend of her elbow and slowly she straightened. Lifting her arm she examined the small red puncture mark.  
  
"I hate needles...." She didn't like using them. That's why she had never injected before, but she had been desperate that night. She looked back up to her reflection. It wasn't fair that none of this kind of stuff seemed to happen to Nyamo.  
  
She sighed heavily and slouched all the way down until her forehead rested against the cool porcelain of the sink. Somehow the touch was familiar. The smooth surface, the cold feel of it against her skin... Her fingers tightened gently onto the edges, then all of a sudden her eyes flew open. A myriad of images shot lightening fast through her brain one right after another like some kind of warped picture show. By themselves the images made no sense: a table, a crowded room, an empty shot glass, a napkin crumpled up on the floor, a man's face, the base of a toilet....But stringing them together would weave the horrific nightmare that she had endured the last night. The images continued to unfurl with intimate detail in the otherwise hazy recesses of her mind as she lifted up to stare hard at her reflection. Those images hadn't come from nowhere. They were memories. An orange tabby cat, a woman's face, a brown paper bag, a purse, a grimy bathroom floor, a swinging door, the tip of a needle, a large golden ring on the finger of a meaty fist, Nyamo...  
  
The blood had drained from her face by the time she pried away from the sink. All of a sudden the room felt very cold. She hugged her arms tight around herself and sat down on the edge of bathtub, her head ducked almost to her knees. Nyamo had been right in her predictions. What a horrible night. 

A little physical abuse was nothing though. She had made a mistake once and it wouldn't happen again. Getting a fix was warm and brilliant like being encased into a perfect wonderland where nothing could ever go wrong. Feeling super human was something she deserved to feel. She owed it to herself for being the great teacher and wonderful person that everyone loved, and it was just like Nyamo to try and spoil it for her. That's why Nyamo didn't have a boyfriend.

Feeling herself about to throw up she laughed softly and slumped down in front of the toilet. So what if the best kind of fun came hard core?

Life was still great. Nyamo would simply never understand.

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Please R&R. I might have to change the rating to R for later chapters. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of these characters. So far the story contains a bit of language and mild drug content.

**Note:** Sorry that this chapter took so long to get up. It's longer than the previous ones and I don't have much time to write and edit during the week. I know that this story may seem a little weird to some people because Azumanga Daioh is a humorous series that doesn't deal with issues like drugs or non consensual sex (::cough::), but I don't write good humor stories. I have a thing about dealing with the more dramatic side of a humorous character because it just makes them a little bit more believable and, in a rather sadistic fashion, enjoyable. In terms of writing fan fiction, I can't stand characters that are just happy-go-lucky all the time. Be warned: As much as I love her, Yukari is probably going to get completely destroyed by the end of this story.

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**Chapter 3**

Nyamo was usually one of the first faculty members to arrive at school in the mornings. Being the high school's P.E. teacher meant that she did a lot of exercising throughout the day and she liked to prepare herself beforehand with a series of stretches and a short run around the track. This morning however, foregoing her routine warm up she instead headed up to the teachers' office area. The teachers didn't really have individual offices. Rather there was one large room with desks lined up in order, each teacher having their own space to either do work or keep their files.

Upon reaching the room, Nyamo pushed the doors open quietly and glanced around to make sure no one else was there. The room was empty. She breathed a mental sigh of relief. The high school certainly wasn't known for its workaholic teachers and for the first time she found herself grateful for that fact.

Without wasting any more time she shut the door behind her and made a bee line for Yukari's desk. It wasn't hard to figure out which desk that was. Yukari hardly had a desk at all. Instead she had a large mountain of books and papers, all of it carelessly arranged in one of the most organized catastrophes that only the language teacher herself could have navigated. Nyamo pulled the chair out from the desk to sit down and set to work. First she looked over the pile of books, taking one or two of them down and idly flipping through them, though finding nothing suspicious. Nothing of the kind of significance she was looking for could have been hidden between the pages of a book anyway. After replacing the volumes to their natural disorder she turned her attention downward to the desk drawers. The top one was filled with random office supplies, hardly any of which ever got used. Paper clips, rubber bands, a staple remover, a crumpled up quiz that had never been claimed, pencils and pens, but nothing more. The second drawer told a similar story, containing no more than an old text book and a few folders, and the same with the third.

A thorough search of Yukari's desk brought forth no further evidence that she was using illegal substances. Nyamo slouched back and rested her fist to the side of her head. She didn't know what, if anything, she had expected to find. Maybe a syringe or some spare hypodermic needles lying around? Maybe a sandwich bag filled along the bottom with an unidentified white or brown powder? A spoon with a burn mark on the underside of it? Pinning Yukari with undeniable evidence wouldn't be that easy. She laughed humorlessly at herself. It wasn't funny. Her friend was using, or had at least experimented with, a narcotic of some sort and she had no idea how to go about helping her before things got worse.

Her gaze shifted back towards the desk, particularly to the many stacks of books on top of it. Their placement was steady, yet precarious at the same time. They wouldn't have fallen on their own, but should one of them slip then the rest would undoubtedly follow. Such was the case with Yukari herself: Unorganized, difficult to figure out, but not unstable unless some portion gave way. Some might have found it hard to believe that Yukari wasn't unstable already. She often acted as though she should have been locked up in a psych ward long ago, but the truth was that she wasn't crazy. She was just Yukari.  
  
Gradually Nyamo's focus fell from the books and zeroed in on the surface of the desk itself. There was hardly any of it left. Only a small area of open space remained that was just large enough for a person to possibly fold their arms on and go to sleep. On that small open space she could see part of a desk calendar, and underneath the top sheet of the calendar there was a small corner of paper sticking out. Her eyebrow arched with casual intrigue. There was nothing special about the paper. It was just like all the other papers scattered around Yukari's desk. Still, it was the only paper stuck where it was. She reached forward and swiped the sheet from its ineffective hiding place.

It was a receipt of some sort. The date at the top of it was from nearly four weeks ago. Scanning over the list items her eyes would narrow slowly into dangerous slits. Another piece of the Yukari puzzle suddenly snapped into place.

At that moment the office door opened and Mr. Kimura walked in with that ever-present gawk on his face. Nyamo started slightly and her head jerked up. Seeing the motion, the lanky man took in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses.

"Good morning, Miss Kurosawa. Always nice to see another teacher who likes to arrive early." He seemed to strain for the words as though his attention span was permanently diverted towards something else. If he wasn't such a lecherous pervert, he just might have been a nice fellow to talk to.

Nyamo casually pushed up from Yukari's seat and slipped the receipt into her back pocket.

"To you as well." With that, she walked around the long line of desks and quickly departed from the room in the hopes that she hadn't aroused his suspicion.

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Fifteen minutes after the first period chime, Yukari stormed into her class room with lesson book in hand and a scowl on her face. It was Monday morning and she felt like shit just like she did every morning, and it didn't help that her body still ached all over from her ordeal on Saturday night.

Slamming the record book down onto her desk she turned and started writing the day's lesson on the board. Her students were used to the routine, but on this morning they seemed to show particular interest in their teacher's entrance. Several would shift up from their slouched positions while others exchanged questioning glances. Nothing was said, yet everyone knew what everyone else was wondering. Tomo, brash as always, was the first to raise her hand and didn't wait to be called on before speaking in that characteristically loud tone.

"Yo, Miss Yukari! You lose another boxing match to Miss Kurosawa?" The other students erupted into rounds of boisterous laughter. The competitive tension between Miss Yukari and Miss Kurosawa was known throughout the school. Many of the instances were funny enough to be re told over and over, often at the expense of Miss Yukari's reputation as a 'mature' member of the faculty. Whenever Miss Yukari sported an injury of some sort, it was usually one that had been self-inflicted, however inadvertently.

Yukari wiped the hateful glare off of her face just before she whirled around and set her hands to her hips.

"How very perceptive of you Miss Takino!" She laughed aloud with her students and made her way over to Tomo's desk. At the last second, her smile disappeared and she whacked the hyper girl over the head with her record book. "That stupid P.E. teacher couldn't lay a finger on me if she tried! It just so happens that I was defending an old lady from a purse snatcher who got lucky and landed a few wild punches."

"Ow! Hey!" Tomo slumped and held her head between her hands. 

From their seats, Yomi and Chiyo looked at each other. Miss Yukari didn't fit the description of a Good Samaritan, but it wasn't completely far fetched. If indeed it had happened, it was probably because Yukari had tripped and stumbled into the would-be purse snatcher. Yomi raised her eyebrows and shrugged; Chiyo did the same.

"Anyone else wanna comment on my glorious wounds of selfless heroism?!" The teacher turned and raised her record book with a threatening glower. The class adamantly shook their heads to perish the thought whether or not they actually believed her. 

Yukari smiled and returned to the front of the class. "Good. Now then, for today's lesson we're going to cover the four categories of phonemes: fricatives, nasals, stops, and vocoids...."  
  
---------

Lunch time couldn't have come soon enough. As soon as the chime sounded, Yukari smiled and snapped her lesson book closed.

"Break at last!" The language teacher probably savored the intermissions more than her students did. Her work ethics hadn't changed much since high school after all. She exited the classroom and scampered with spacey joy down the hallway to the teachers' office with every intention of using the free time to sleep since recently she hadn't been very hungry.

Skipping all the way to her desk she threw her book down and flopped back into her seat. The chair swiveled around twice before she stopped and folded her arms on the desk's surface. Her head fell forward, and within seconds she was asleep and snoring peacefully. None of the other teachers paid her any mind as they made their way out towards the cafeteria. Yukari certainly did have her ways about her and they had long since given up on trying to figure them out. Her hyperactivity wasn't a problem as long as she was doing her job, and so far her students had all been getting good grades.

Nyamo watched everything from her unobtrusive spot in the corner. Her arms were folded as she leaned against a book case, lips turned in a solemn frown. Once the other teachers had left, she crossed the room to close and lock the front doors. Then she went over to Yukari's desk.

"Hey," she spoke plainly and leaned back against the desk's edge.

Yukari stirred and peered open one tired brown eye. To the sight of her old high school friend she would smirk and roll her eyes.

"Oh...It's you. Come to give me another lecture?"

"Don't be like that," Nyamo sighed.

Yukari scowled and pushed up from her slouched position.

"Then tell me what you want and make it quick! I'm a busy person ya know!"

Nyamo bit her tongue against pointing out that sleeping didn't qualify as work. That would have only instigated another long, fabricated excuse and she didn't want to hear it right now.

"I just want to talk." From her pocket she pulled out the receipt that she had found on the desk earlier. "Care to tell me about this?" She set the receipt in front of her.

The language teacher looked at it, then arched one slender brow.

"Yeah? What about it?"

Nyamo exhaled heavily and snatched up the piece of paper.

"It's a receipt from a pharmacy downtown, dated last month."

"So?"

"So it was on your desk."

"And?"

"And I want to know what it was doing there."

"Goddamn, Nyamo!" Yukari growled and stood from her chair. Suddenly she was feeling a little claustrophobic and started to gather the books that she would need for her afternoon classes. "One little prick on my arm and all of a sudden you jump all over me because I picked up some headache medication! Stop being so damn serious all the time!"

Nyamo slammed her hand to the desk and bent her elbow slightly to glare at the stubborn woman.

"Headache medication?! Yukari, these are antipsychotics! Neuroleptics! And don't tell me to stop being serious because this_ is_ serious! Have you suddenly become schizophrenic or something?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why are you getting these medications?"

"They're for my mom, all right?" Yukari didn't even know why she was wasting her time trying to convince her. She gathered her books and headed for the door.

Nyamo's glare suddenly faded and she gave herself a hard mental kick. The line of communication between them would shut off if Yukari was upset with her. Quickly she moved and blocked the other woman's path just before she reached the exit.

"Wait....I'm sorry.....I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." She had a feeling that the conclusions she had jumped to were wrong anyways. She would have been able to tell if Yukari had been taking antipsychotic medication. It was almost more disturbing to her that Yukari had the prescriptions for them and _wasn't_ taking them. What else could she have been doing with them? Antipsychotics weren't generally taken as a 'pleasure' drug. They were more like sedatives that worked to block the flow of dopamine in the brain, and Yukari certainly didn't need to take any to function properly in society, no matter how crazy she acted sometimes. Another thing was for sure: Yukari's mom wasn't schizophrenic. "Why don't we go out tonight somewhere? I promise not to pry anymore."

Yukari frowned, her lower lip protruding in that stubborn fashion. Nyamo was such a pain in the ass sometimes, treating her like she was some kind of child when they were pretty much the same age.

"Sorry, but I've got plans."

"Steak dinner. My treat."

"You're on. Usual time and place?"

"Yes. Whatever you want." Nyamo nodded affirmatively. Good thing she knew Yukari's weaknesses. She didn't just want to talk. She wanted to keep an eye on her friend to make sure that she stayed out of trouble. If a steak dinner was what it would take then she would gladly resort to it.

---------------

At eight thirty that night, the two were well into their meals at their favorite restaurant. All evening Nyamo had made it a point to keep the conversation topics away from anything that could potentially put Yukari on edge. If she was going to figure out anything at all then Yukari would have to be in a good mood. Keeping her in a good mood included getting a few drinks into her and playing her games. Already there were two large bottles of beer on the table, one of them empty and the other coming close to being the same.

For the uncounted time that night, Yukari slammed her empty glass down onto the table and leaned her elbow over the back of the booth. She wasn't completely drunk, however the certain shine in her eyes and the gentle blush in her cheeks indicated that she was very much buzzed.

"....So that was the night that I told that damn cabbie where to stick it.....Yep."

Nyamo had her arms folded on the table and was leaning forward casually. She had only partaken of two drinks and didn't plan on downing anymore. Unlike Yukari, she didn't exactly savor the feeling of getting smashed. One of them had to stay sober to get them home anyway.

"Sounds interesting...." Her fingers wrapped around one of her empty glasses and tilted it towards her. She pretended to be more interested in the remnants of amber-hued liquid than on the conversation. So far she had been listening to a few more of Yukari's 'not my fault' stories, but the time was right. Yukari looked relaxed enough that Nyamo could probably bring up the subject of her recent 'experiments' without fear of making her angry. She made sure to choose her words carefully and crafted her tone into one of coolly indifference.

"Soooo....How often do you usually go out?"

Yukari saw through it immediately. 

"Oooh no...I know where this is going. You're still stuck on this aren't you?" She rolled up the sleeve of her sweater and showed off the crook of her elbow. The mark was still apparent, though somewhat faded.

Nyamo almost cringed to the sight of it.

"Maybe a little." She forced her shoulders to lift and fall in a careless shrug. If she seemed too interested in the matter then Yukari would just get angry and close off again. The truth was that she had been dwelling hard on it ever since Saturday night. She would never forget the sight of her high school friend slumped there on her doorstep, beaten up and flying high on narcotics.

"Geez, you gotta learn to lay off. I mean it's not my fault you don't know how to have a little fun. If I didn't know any better I'd say that you were jealous."

Nyamo nearly lunged over the table upon hearing such a wild claim, but she restrained herself and averted her eyes downward for a moment.

"I'm just worried about you. Is that such a bad thing?"

Yukari sighed and gave a heavy roll of her eyes.

"Look, I promise that it was a one-time thing. I was curious and things just got outta hand is all," she stated with a nonchalant shrug and sat up to pour herself another drink.

Nyamo looked back up and studied the other woman carefully. The words sounded light enough coming from Yukari that they just might have been sincere. She hated to automatically think the worst of her best friend. 

"You promise?" Dark blue eyes locked hard with light brown.

Swallowing what liquid she had in her mouth, Yukari set her drink down and extended her hand over the table.

"Absolutely." The smile on her face was genuine, if not a little bit lazy because of the alcohol.

Nyamo wasn't at all convinced, but right now a verbal promise was the most that she could hope for. She looked at the offered hand, then back into the cheerful brown eyes across from her.

"And what about the medications you've been getting?"

"Yeah...those." Yukari retracted her hand to set her fists on the table. "You gotta know that they really are for my mom! She has these issues ya know...Her doctor prescribed the medications but she can't afford them. My insurance covers 'em, so I got my doc to give me a prescription for the same stuff and I just give 'em to her."

"......I see." It sounded logical enough to be true. It was only too bad that it wasn't.

Yukari noticed her friend's hesitation and grinned softly. She slid out of her booth and moved to sit beside Nyamo, her arms lifting to circle around her. 

"C'moooon...Cheer up! You know me better than that." Softly her eyes closed and she rested her head to Nyamo's shoulder. Nyamo remained silent for a moment and kept her arms folded on the table. If Yukari wasn't telling the truth about the medications, she at least hoped that she was telling the truth about her experiment being a one-time thing.

"You're right.......I do."

-------------  
  
That night Nyamo walked Yukari back to her house. For once Yukari hadn't been so drunk that they needed a cab to get back to their respective neighborhoods. Approaching the front door, the language teacher fumbled to get her keys from her pocket.

"Fichues clefs.....Pour l'amour du bon pantalon (1)," she grumbled to herself and held her keychain up in front of her eyes to find her house key.

Nyamo laughed softly and hung back a few feet to watch her friend fiddle with her keys. Speaking drunken gibberish in their native tongue was one thing, but somehow it was rather adorable when Yukari would do it in other languages that she was fluent in.

"What was that about pants?"

"Pants......yes.... Silenzio! Li arresterò! (2)" The French tone gave way to slurred Italian as Yukari unlocked the door and pushed it open. She then turned and leaned in the door frame, waving one of her arms in a wide circle. "That goes for you too, Ny-am-o."

"Um...sure....ok." Nyamo rolled her eyes. The night hadn't exactly been a successful one. She had gotten a few answers but none that she really trusted. The only thing that offered her the smallest bit of comfort was Yukari's insistence that what had happened over the weekend would never happen again. Her grin softened as she stepped forward.

"Just stay out of trouble, ok?" She slipped her hand around the curve of Yukari's neck and kissed her gently on the forehead. It wasn't meant as anything beyond a friendly touch. It was her non-verbal way of letting the language teacher know that she did care for her, and she cared about what happened to her.

Yukari smiled and let her head cant forward to the kiss, her arms folding loosely. She didn't reject the contact in the slightest. Nyamo was someone that she was familiar and comfortable with; even if most of the time they got on each other's nerves. They knew each other better than anyone else ever would. Of course all of this was something that Yukari's proud mind would not let her admit. Ideally to her, Nyamo was still a pest who couldn't get a boyfriend and hung around because she was looking for a good woman to copy.

"You P.E. teachers.... So gefüllt mit Unsinn...(3)"

Nyamo chuckled and stepped back to stuff her hands into the pockets of her jacket.  
  
"All right, all right....Get some sleep already. We have classes in the morning." With that she turned and headed down the sidewalk.

Yukari watched her friend depart and waited for her to move out of sight. She then closed the door and slipped her shoes off to head upstairs. She was still feeling the effects of her buzz. The stairs swayed slightly as she traversed them, as did the hallway when she walked down to her room.

Once she was in her room she would stand for a moment and check the clock. It was 10:42. Her gaze fell upon the bed, then scanned across all of the items scattered across the floor.

"Hm..." Her lips twisted into a smirk. Crossing her arms she grabbed the bottom hem of her sweater and yanked it up over her head. The article was tossed to the floor, followed soon by her skirt. Left half naked in her bra and panties she went quickly to her closet.

When she re emerged from the closet she was not wearing pajamas. Instead she wore a knee-length skirt and a dark green, sleeveless turtle-neck shirt. Ankle high boots completed the ensemble and she was ready to go out for real. She had been waiting all day for it, unable to free the half of her mind that remained fixated on the thought of hooking up. In front of her bedroom mirror she quickly ran a brush through her hair, then grabbed up her purse from the top of the dresser. But she couldn't go out without a means to supply herself. From the first dresser drawer she pulled out a small plastic bag.

Inside the bag were several series of medications that she had gotten from her doctor last month. It wouldn't be long before she would have to call in for a refill. She stuffed the bag into her purse and headed from the room.

She did feel bad for lying to Nyamo but it wasn't her fault. If anything, it was Nyamo's fault. What else could she have done to get the P.E. teacher off her back? She had no more excuses. She didn't need any justification for doing the things that she did because there was absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to have a little fun in life.

----------

"Rotten keys...For the love of good pants!" (French)

"Silence!...I'll arrest you." (Italian)

"So filled with nonsense..." (German)

Note: The next chapter is definitely going to be rated R, and then after that it's only going to get worse. If I could then I'd rate it NC-17 and put up the uncensored version, but I don't want to get reported by some kid who ignored the label and then decided to get offended. Anyways...Please R&R!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R for language, general adult content, and (mostly censored) descriptions of drug use. If you're not old enough or you're easily offended, then don't read it. Any clubs mentioned in this story do not exist.

**Note: **Relax, Yukari fans. This is the R version of this story. Not the NC-17 one.

---------------

**Chapter 4**

Yukari leaned forward and ordered the cabbie to stop at the next intersection. The man glanced up in his rear view mirror and nodded once before turning his attention back to the road. They were several blocks away from where the downtown area ended and the red light district began.

The teacher anxiously gnawed on her thumb nail, one of her knees bouncing up and down slightly. She felt like a little kid going to a theme park. She was excited and scared at the same time and she couldn't wait to get back on her favorite roller coaster.

The cab came to a stop by the curb and Yukari tossed the driver a couple of bills. The amount was short of what she owed, but the driver wouldn't have time to protest before she was already out of the cab and walking down the street. Contrary to the district's reputation among the people who never went there, it wasn't the most dangerous place in the city. It was actually quite popular.

As she made her way down the sidewalk, the restaurants and twenty-four hour convenience shops would slowly give way to dance clubs and 'love hotels', and the streets would become a bit more populated with club-goers and the ever present street-side merchants of sex. People milled in lines outside of certain dance clubs. As Yukari passed them she could feel the ground vibrate beneath her feet with a fast, pulsing beat. Only a few of the people would divert from their conversations long enough to cast her a fleeting glance. Any other time she just might have stopped to socialize and flirt but all of that could wait until later.

Her club of preference was simply called 'E.L.'. It was a multi-level structure nestled between two other clubs called 'Jace' and 'Io'. Each club had their own theme. Depending on what a person was in to, they probably could have found any number of connections within them. Yukari scanned slowly over the faces of the people hanging around outside of the buildings. Some were waiting in the lines to go in, but others had certain alternative motives. The teacher smirked slightly when she caught sight of the person she was looking for.

She didn't know his name. No one really did. He was a tall man, older than herself and a little too thin. His dark hair was spiked and streaked with red, and the fact that he wore nothing but expensive jeans and designer jackets didn't mask the level of his poverty. He always looked a week since his last bath, but cheap corner-store cologne did well to hide the odor. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. Boldly he leaned back against the front of the club like a true veteran of the trade. Newer participants of his business kept their hands out of their pockets and walked from club to club as though they were innocent seekers of fun. This man defied the act of secrecy. Everyone knew that he had what they wanted. His business always came to him like a slave to its master.

Yukari approached the man and paused several feet away from him.

"Ahem..." A clear demand of his attention.

Grey eyes would shift from looking across the street and focus themselves on the woman before them. A grin twisted the corner of his lips. She had returned. Just like he knew that she would.

The first time he had seen her had been a little over a month ago. She wasn't like the others. She turned down his best offers for the specific things that she wanted. Never anything heavy. But over the past week she had started to fail him. She hadn't been as regular, claiming that what she was doing wasn't working anymore. He offered to give her a free sample of his solution to the problem. Once she was under he took it upon himself to teach her a valuable lesson in mutual reciprocity. Nothing was free. He made her pay with the physical well-being of her body and beat the ever-loving crap out of her. For his generosity they both knew that she owed him double. Despite their history, yet again his 'free' sample had blossomed into another regular customer. His smile grew a little wider.

"Yeah?...I think you know somethin'," he said in no small voice, indicating that she knew what she wanted and knew that he had it.

Yukari folded her arms and stepped forward with a Cheshire cat grin.

"I need a favor..."

"You know I can do 'em." He straightened up from the wall and stepped towards her, his hand lifting to hold her chin between its fingers. "But you remember what we talked about last time?" His scrutiny of her black eye and split lip was condescendingly deliberate.

"Yeah, whatever." Yukari shrugged away from the touch and frowned. Adjusting her purse she slowly reached her hand into it and grasped the bag of medications, but refrained from pulling it out. "You do me a favor, I got yours right here..."

His eyes would narrow with his grin. Without another word he turned and motioned for her to follow as he headed up to the entrance of the club. The large man at the door would nod to his approach and unclasp the rope to let them inside.

The club was hot and smelled like a mixture of sweat and old rubber. The inside of it was kept dimmed almost to the point of blackness. Any light that shined down was dark and colored with the exception of the strobe light that would flicker in intervals of ten seconds before stopping. The club's entire structure pounded with the massive bass vibrations from the fast music and writhing bodies. There was a lot maintenance that needed to be done on it, but any money that was made in there did not go towards renovations.

The main area was the dance floor located on the first level. In a lowered portion of the floor, faceless bodies twisted and gyrated either to the beat in the room or the beat in their minds. There was also a stand-in bar, no seats available for safety reasons when the dance floor often over flowed. Against the far wall there were a few people slouched and passing something between them. One of the people suddenly twisted to the side and emptied the contents of their stomach on the floor. No one seemed to notice.

On the second floor there was another, more casual bar area complete with tables and booths alike. It was a little quieter than the first floor, but no one ever went up there to talk anyway.

The basement level was one that Yukari had never ventured to, though she had often peered down the stairs that lead to it. She had never been able to see very much. Half way down the stairs there was a fog machine set up to inevitably obscure the view within. Past the fog there was mixture of green and purple lights, sometimes red, yet nothing more could be seen. Men and women alike went down there, either by themselves or sometimes with other people. Only one time had she tried to see what went on down their, but her acquaintance had grabbed her harshly by the back of the neck and dragged her up from the step she had taken. His only warning was that if she ever went down there then she better be feeling alive enough to be dead. She had taken his word for it.

The man led the way up to the second floor where he bypassed the bar and chose a booth towards the back. Like a perfect gentleman he waited for Yukari to sit down before taking a seat beside her, effectively closing her in to the inner part of the booth. He leaned in close against her and draped his arm around her shoulders. His voice was soft as though what he had to say was only for her.

"Show me."

"Here..." Yukari reached into her purse and brought out the small bag of meds. She had never asked what exactly he did with the medications, or why he always accepted them from her before money. Somehow she knew that it would be smart to remain ignorant of it.

The man took the bag and peered inside, a smile growing wide across his face.

"And what else?"

Yukari sifted through her purse and brought out a small roll of bills, her compensation for his 'gift' to her on Saturday.

"That's my girl," he whispered and took the money, then folded up the bag to stick both items into the pocket of his jacket. "You've earned it tonight."

He sat back and took out a package of his own, setting it gently in her lap. It was a collection of several items wrapped in a red bandana. Yukari looked down to the package and clenched her jaw tight. It was the same kind of package he had given her before.

The man caught the look of mild trepidation and closed his arm tighter around her.

"Awww...You're still scared of it aren't you?"

Yukari took in a deep breath and let it out, her head ducking slightly.

"I don't like needles...."

The dealer took hold of her hand and laced her fingers with his own. With his other hand he brushed the strands of hair away from her face.

"It won't hurt a bit...I promise. I'll take good care of you." He slipped his hands back and took the package from her lap to open it up on the table. It didn't matter if anyone walking by would have seen what they were doing. Any person on the second floor would have been high on something themselves.

Inside the package was an alcohol swab, a syringe, a lighter, a bent spoon, a ball of cotton, and a small baggie with several ounces of a white powder in it. From the leg pocket of his pants, the man pulled out a small bottle of water, and they were ready to begin.

Yukari watched the preparation like a child learning how to tie her shoe. The first step, second step, third, and so on...She knew how much she needed it. She feared it. She hated it. She couldn't wait for it.

Finally the man was tying something around her arm, and then wiping the bend of her elbow with alcohol. Suddenly she shook her head and moved her arm away.

"Not there...."

The mark on her arm would be visible the next day and she didn't want Nyamo to see it. She shifted sideways in the seat and tugged up the hem of her skirt to reveal her thigh. The man looked at her strangely.

"You sure? That's gonna take longer and hurt like a bitch." There weren't any veins in the thigh that could be easily penetrated by a needle so it would take the drug longer to reach her blood stream.

"I'm sure." Yukari untied the rubber cord from around her arm and nodded. She didn't need Nyamo bitching to her about it. The less visible marks she had on her arms, the better.

The man wiped down the top of her leg with the alcohol swab. Yukari leaned back and shut her eyes tightly, her lower lip taken between her teeth. The needle pressed against her skin. She needed it. Godammit how she needed it.

A slight prick of pain. She winced and counted to three. The needle was still there. A burning sensation fanned out from the insertion point and she closed her eyes tighter. The pain was awful as though she had just been bitten by some poisonous insect, but she wouldn't allow herself to scream.

Just as she was about to tell the man to take it out, he removed the needle and sat back. The pain was still there. Looking down she saw that a small red welt had developed where she had been injected and it still burned like Hell.

"There," the man set the emptied syringe back on the table. As a show of good faith, he disconnected the needle and scraped it back and forth along the surface of the table until the tip of it was gone. It would never be used again.

Yukari hugged her arms around herself and leaned against the wall. She was angry at herself, but at the same time she couldn't blame herself. This was the only time that she could ever reach that peak of insurmountable pleasure. It was a pleasure that she had a right to feel.

It took about fifteen minutes before the first wave hit her hard. Absolute euphoria. Her eyes went wide and she looked upwards, lips parted just slightly. A bright warmth encased her, and all of a sudden she found herself falling in love.

"F-fuck..." She couldn't believe it. The colors and textures of everything inside her mind were brought into overwhelming detail. She felt as though she could have picked apart her own existence and reconstructed herself as a creator. She was a goddess. That's how she was supposed to feel. She was supposed to be in control. She could control anything she wanted to. Even her own future. She stretched her back and felt her hands up along her arms. It felt wonderful. Everything felt wonderful. She was almost afraid to move, but she was already moving. She was moving at speeds of two hundred miles per hour without a seat belt and she never wanted to stop.

The man sitting beside her would smile and stroke his fingers back through her hair once more.

"That's right baby....Feels good don't it? That's what you need....Someone to take care of you...."

Yukari was completely gone. She didn't care when the man kissed her, she didn't care when she was hauled up from the seat, she didn't care when she was dragged somewhere, and she didn't care when she felt herself hit the floor. It was the greatest thing that had ever happened. If there was any one who deserved to feel this kind of rapture, it was her. She stretched her arms above her head and closed her eyes with a smile.

Somewhere above her she heard people talking. A man knelt down and grabbed her by the hair to turn her face towards his.

"This one?" His voice was raspy from lack of use and she just barely made out the gold sparkle of a chain that dangled around his neck.

"Yeah. Do it quick," another man replied and grabbed her by the ankles. He turned her over to lay her flat on her back.

Yukari's eyes had half-closed and the grin had faded from her lips. The initial rush was over and she was basking in the warm glow of elation. She heard a zipper coming undone, then felt a weight settle itself above her. Again there were voices.

"Careful. You know where to keep it."

"Shuddup would ya? Cute little thing like her ain't gonna do nothin'."

"Just hurry up before someone comes in."

-----------------

The next morning came crashing down onto Yukari's head like a sack of bricks. It pained her eyes to crack them open. The first thing she registered was sunlight. The next thing she registered was an awful pain in her left leg and back.

With the utmost care she turned herself over to lay on her side with her back to the invading sunlight. Now able to blink her eyes open a little better, she focused on the first thing that came into sight. Her alarm clock. It was on the floor, and so was she. She was still wearing her clothes from the previous night and even her boots were still on, one of them untied. The time on the clock was 7:22. She was going to be late for work. Again.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the events that had lead up to the present moment. The images were faint at first. Nyamo, a beer bottle, Nyamo smiling, the back of a cabbie's head, a poster advertising a street band, a man's face, a plastic bag, stairs....

Slowly she brought herself up into a sitting position and pressed her hand to her forehead. Her mouth felt so dry, and the taste in it was awful. She reached down to unlace her boots and worked both of them from her feet. That's when she noticed her thigh. An angry bruise had developed right on top of it. Looked like she would be wearing a long skirt today.

As she tried to stand, her left thigh wrenched with pain. The shock made her cry out and fall back into a sitting position. This was going to be a long day indeed. She tried again, this time favoring the bruised leg and keeping it off the ground.

More images surfaced in her memory as she carefully got to her feet and leaned her hand to her dresser. This time the memories weren't as surprising to her. A bald bartender, a piece of cotton soaking on a spoon, another set of stairs, an orange tabby cat, pipes along the ceiling of a room, a man holding his....

Suddenly she blinked.

"Oh.....shit."

Two men had been standing above her. She remembered being turned onto her back and then one of the men pushing her legs apart. He had been there, holding her arms down while another held her legs....

Quickly she looked down at herself but neither saw nor felt anything odd. It was only when she ran her hand along the back of her skirt that her heart began to pound. Her finger tips brushed over what felt like some sort of crust. In a woozy struggle she peeled off her shirt and turned her skirt around backwards. Across the back of it there were several streaks of a dried, whitish substance. Such an amount of it couldn't have come from just one man.

"Fucking little.....Ugh!" She couldn't have taken the skirt off fast enough. Thoroughly disgusted she turned and gathered up all her articles of clothing, including her bra and panties, and threw them into the trash can. She had never felt so dirty in her life. Her fingers clenched into her hair and she worked hard to fight back the tears of frustration. How could she have let such a thing happen? Part of her wasn't surprised. She had always been a screw up in one way or another. Her class was just going to have to wait this morning. There was no way that she was going to do anything else until she had at least two showers.

In the shower she turned on the hot water and waited for the bathroom to fog up before stepping under the scalding stream. The burn was harsh against her skin but it gave her a temporary sense of catharsis as though she could somehow burn away the events of last night. Perhaps if she could have ridded herself of the first layer of skin she would have felt better.

As she lathered conditioner into her hair she tried hard to remember what exactly had taken place after she shot up. Despite the fact that there had been dried sperm all over the back of her skirt, she didn't feel any kind of discomfort between her legs. If she didn't know any better then she'd say that none of the men had penetrated her at all. That didn't make any sense though. What kind of man in that part of the city wouldn't have wanted to take advantage of an attractive woman like her? Was she not even that good? Not even good enough to be used as some generic female body for a round of mindless fucking?

"_What the fuck am I thinking?!"_

Brown eyes shut tight as she shook her head in complete disbelief. She had been violated and almost taken advantage of in the worst possible way, and she was wondering why none of the men had gone through with the act? How bad had those drugs fucked her up anyway? Aside from making her feel like God they also seemed to intensify her hidden insecurities.

More tears streaked down the sides of her cheeks by the time she pried her eyes open. Filled with the sudden need to hurt something she pounded the side of her fist against the wall until her entire arm began to throb. No better thing to harm than herself. It actually felt good to do it.

"_I can't keep doing this...."_

Never again. The drugs were simply not worth it.

Then again, nothing else could make her feel so alive, even if she did feel like dying afterwards.

--------------

"Um...Miss Yukari?" Chiyo tentatively raised her hand.

Miss Yukari had arrived nearly forty five minutes late that morning. That was late even for her. After giving the entire class an assignment to be turned in before lunch, she then slumped over at her desk and went to sleep.

Now it was nearing lunch time and still the language teacher had not woken up. Chiyo hopped up from her seat and took it upon herself to go around and collect the finished assignments from the students. Miss Yukari must not have been feeling very well and she wanted to do something to try and help her.

Tomo grumbled as she handed over her semi-completed work.

"Maaaaan...Why is it that teachers can sleep in class and students can't?"

Yomi looked up from the book she had been reading and arched one cynical eyebrow.

"Maybe it's because teachers tend to work harder than students."

"Miss Yukari you mean? No way! It takes her a week to even grade stuff that we turn in," Tomo replied and leaned back in her chair with arms folded behind her head. It would just be her luck that out of all the teachers in the school, she got stuck with the lazy one. Maybe it wasn't really such a bad thing. The less work the teacher did, the less work she would have to do.

Chiyo took up the last of the papers and walked to the front of the classroom to set the stack on the teacher's desk. Miss Yukari had her arms folded with her face hidden into them, still very much asleep.

It was only when the lunch chime rang that Yukari slowly lifted her head and yawned. She was still tired and very uncomfortable with the throbbing pain in her left thigh, but she had no choice but to deal with it.

She offered no excuses to her class as she stood up from her desk and walked from the room. With each step a sharp pain shot straight up from her leg and into the rest of her body. It was all she could do to keep herself from limping as she made her way down the hallway. That would have only sparked questions that would lead to suspicions and then to accusations. She didn't need anyone telling her that there was something wrong. She could take care of herself just fine.

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**Note: **As always, please R&R. Yukari's downward spiral is only just beginning. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to Azumanga Daioh. This story is rated R for language, drug content, and general stuff that should not be put into the imaginations of people under the age of 17.  
  
**Note:** Thanks to those who read and reviewed. :) Your comments keep me motivaivated.  
  
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**Chapter 5  
**  
After making sure that her friend got home safe and sound, Nyamo had returned to her own place of dwelling and settled in for the night. Unlike Yukari's habit of drinking to the point of illness, she had only taken in enough alcohol to make her comfortably buzzed and sleep well until morning.  
  
When morning came she woke up and went through her regular routine that always started with a nice, hot shower, followed by a moderate breakfast and basic preparation for the day ahead. Her attire that day was a variation of what she usually wore to work: a blue runner's jacket with matching pants and a white tank top underneath. It was something of a school-issued dress code for P.E. teachers that they always had to dress like athletes just in case they all of a sudden had to run a few laps or jump a few hurdles, something that was never the case, but rules were rules and Nyamo abided.  
  
Her morning classes came and went with the same enthusiasm that they always did. For many of the students, P.E. was a welcome break during an entire day of sitting in a class room and listening to lectures. The primary activity of the day was basket ball. Nyamo divided each class into two groups that depended on the students' experience with the sport. Those students who knew the game were welcome to divide off and play competitively while she supervised the less experienced individuals. Even though there were times that Nyamo would have loved to participate in a good round of ball playing, her primary focus always stayed with those who needed help the most, thus was her main reason for becoming a teacher.  
  
Several times during the morning her thoughts had drifted back to Yukari. She really wanted to believe what Yukari had said the previous night, that her experiment had been a one time thing. But was shooting up ever just a one time thing? It all depended on the will power and sensibility of the person doing the experimenting. That wasn't a very comforting thought. Yukari was almost a genius when it came to languages, but when it came to common sense and the sometimes drastic consequences of immediate gratification she was like a kid in a candy store.  
  
When lunch time came, Nyamo headed back up to the teachers' room to get the lunch she had packed for herself. On the way in the door she passed a few teachers who smiled and greeted her briefly. She returned their smiles, though declined an invitation to join them for lunch in the cafeteria. There wasn't another faculty member in the school that she didn't get along with, except for Mr. Kimura when he ventured too close to the pool during class hours, and of course Yukari who didn't get along easily with anyone. It was because of this characteristic of Yukari that made it difficult for Nyamo to enjoy a casual conversation with the other teachers. A lot of the talking they did was gossip, and a lot of that gossip revolved around Yukari. Nyamo just might have agreed with some of what they said, but she still wasn't the kind of person to sit and indulge others who talked about a friend of hers that way.  
  
The P.E. teacher headed to her desk and opened the top drawer where she kept her lunch container. She never ate much during the day. With her position it wouldn't have been healthy since she did so much running around all the time. Setting the container on her desk, she was about to sit down when suddenly she paused. There was an odd sound coming from somewhere in the room. With her head canted slightly, she stood for a moment and listened.  
  
_"Snoring?"  
_  
The sound was so faint that she hadn't even heard it above her own footsteps. Curiously she followed the sound and wasn't really surprised when it lead her to Yukari's desk.  
  
At first she hadn't seen the language teacher. Yukari was slumped over on her desk, almost completely hidden behind the mountains of books around her. Her face was ducked into her arms and her breathing was slow and steady. Nyamo smirked, then quietly took a seat at the desk beside her.  
  
"Catching another afternoon nap, huh?" She leaned her elbow on the desk and propped her fist to the side of her head, quirking a small grin. "You must've been working hard this morning."  
  
Yukari pried her eyes open and lifted her head, slowly letting her gaze focus on the woman who sat beside her. She really didn't feel like talking to Nyamo right now. All she wanted was another good solid hour of sleep so she would be able to make it through the afternoon. Nonetheless, she straightened up forced a rather snooty laugh.  
  
"I work hard all the time! You P.E. teachers wouldn't know. I've never seen you so tired that you had to take a mid-day nap."  
  
"Maybe it's because we just have more energy than language teachers who get to sit around in air conditioned rooms all day," Nyamo replied and rolled her eyes playfully. Yukari slouched back in her chair and frowned.  
  
"Vous êtes futé comme la vieille gomme.(1)"  
  
"No fair speaking in another language!" Nyamo picked up a spare paper clip from the desk and tossed it at the other woman. Yukari held up her arm to dodge the small projectile, and then stuck out her tongue when it missed.  
  
"Stellen Sie dann einen Übersetzer an.(2)"  
  
Nyamo only shook her head and propped her chin in her hand. She couldn't compete with supposed insults that she couldn't even understand. There was only one way to get around Yukari's linguistic cheating and that was to change the subject. There was a momentary pause and her expression softened.  
  
"How're you feeling?"  
  
Yukari groaned and let her head fall back against the top of her seat. There were so many things that she could have said. She felt isolated, sore, empty, and violated, but then again she couldn't really admit to any of those things.  
  
"I'm just tired. Must've been those drinks last night."  
  
Nyamo said nothing and only watched her friend carefully. It was true that Yukari didn't hold her liquor all that well. That still never kept her from going out and getting drunk on a school night and waking up the next morning with a hang over from Hell. She was only fortunate that with her level of energy the hangovers never lasted all that long.  
  
Yukari brought her head back up and leveled her eyes with the dark blue ones across from her. The silence stretched on. Because she had known Nyamo for years, she was supplied with more than a little extra knowledge about the reserved athletics teacher. Such knowledge provided her with the uncanny ability to read her mind at times, a skill that Nyamo had for her as well. In this instance she knew almost exactly what Nyamo was thinking, and she didn't like it one bit. Instead of losing her temper like she normally would, she only shook her head and sat forward.  
  
"You still don't trust me, do you?" As she straightened she grabbed the bottom of her sweater and tugged it over her head. The short sleeved shirt she wore underneath did nothing to conceal the state of her arms, both of which remained unmarred beyond the mark that Nyamo had already seen.  
  
Nyamo didn't reply as she looked over the bared arms. Yukari had been right in her convictions and she felt a little guilty for having been found out so easily. What kind of a friend was she to always assume that Yukari was doing the worst possible thing? She too sat forward and shook her head, reaching to take Yukari's hands into her own.  
  
"I told you…I'm just worried about you."  
  
"And I've told you a million times that you worry too much," Yukari laced her fingers with the others and lifted their hands slightly. Somehow for such a simple touch, it was comforting in a way. Nyamo was the person that she was most familiar with, and though she wouldn't admit it, she was the one person who treated her like a comprehending adult and not a mental patient.  
  
Nyamo let her gaze fall. She did feel bad for remaining so suspicious of her best friend. Yukari was right. She did know her better than that.  
  
"You're right. I apologize."  
  
"Hmph…If you're sooo concerned about keeping track of me then how about you take me out to dinner tonight? I'll even let you pay to make up for being such a tight-ass."  
  
"I'm afraid that I can't. I have to supervise the swim team this evening."  
  
"All right. But don't say that I didn't offer." Yukari grinned playfully. She pulled her hands from Nyamo's and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. Actually she knew full-well that Nyamo wouldn't have been able to go out that night. It only strengthened her case to be the first to offer.  
  
"Right," Nyamo laughed softly as she stood. "Well, I'll let you get back to your beauty sleep. I can see you're in desperate need of one."  
  
She had only seconds to dodge the dictionary that was hurled after her.  
  
--------------  
  
Yukari had sworn a solemn oath to herself that she was through with shooting up. She had been into other things before she was introduced to narcotics, and it would only be too easy to go back to her old sources of stress relief. She didn't like needles anyway, and the drugs that were injected by them were fantastic enough to keep her from caring even when she was being raped, in a dry sense of the word.  
  
She returned to the same strip that night, and the same man leaned back against the same wall of the same club. Her mind was set, and her words were firm on the tip of her tongue. She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted to lose herself, but not at the cost of her body.  
  
As soon as she approached, the man smiled and pushed up from his slumped posture. He greeted her as he always did, and within minutes the conversation had been completely manipulated to suit his interests. He had been around enough people in his time to know when a person was addicted. Some people got addicted faster than others, and Yukari had been hooked on euphoria ever since her first acid trip over a month ago. Now that he had introduced her to his products, she wasn't even aware that she was jumping as high as he was telling her to.  
  
"Welllll….I don't know about that. I'll see what I can do, but it ain't gonna be much," he drew the words out like a car salesman pretending to cut his customer a ridiculous deal. Yukari frowned and stomped her foot angrily.  
  
"But I gave you all the meds I had last time!"  
  
"Then get some more from your doc and come back."  
  
"I need something tonight."  
  
"Then you pay for all of it."  
  
"I don't have that kind of money."  
  
"That's not my problem," the man shrugged and walked back to his place against the wall. He wouldn't have done such a thing if he wasn't completely confident in the knowledge that his 'patron' would follow. And Yukari did follow him quickly.  
  
"You don't have anything else?" She stopped closer to him for the sake of keeping her voice low. It wasn't completely necessary in such an un-patrolled area but the last thing she needed was to get caught by an under cover cop. She knew that her dealer wasn't working on the force; otherwise she would have gotten busted a long time ago.  
  
"I do have one thing." The man feigned exasperation as though he had other people to tend to.  
  
"Which is?" Yukari's impatience was not feigned. She had been jittery all afternoon and her compulsions were getting harder to control. Her eyes followed the dealer's hand that reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. Quickly she read the label, then nearly choked in disbelief. "Cough syrup?!"  
  
The tall man laughed and slipped the bottle back into his pocket.  
  
"You asked."  
  
"Fine!...Just…dammit…...Here!" Her tolerance had run out. The teacher rummaged through her purse and took out all of the money that she had. She hadn't planned on using even half of it to get her fix that night but the dealer was being an absolute asshole. Her electric bill could wait until her next paycheck anyway. She'd just spend more time at Nyamo's place until then.  
  
The dealer laughed and took the money, making sure to count it before slipping it into his front pocket. From the inside pouch of his jacket he took out a small, flattened paper bag and handed it to her. Yukari didn't hesitate to snatch the bag and stuff it into her purse.  
  
"More than enough. Sure you don't want help with that?" The man's grin was smug and lecherous enough to make Yukari want to claw it off, but right now she was more intent on getting her fix. She turned sharply on her heel and walked away before she said something that would only result in another beating.  
  
The man stepped out and called after her.  
  
"Hey, I forgot to ask!"  
  
She stopped and turned just enough to frown at him over her shoulder. The dealer took a few steps forward with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and a cat-like grin on his face.  
  
"You still on your period? The boys were kinda disappointed last time."  
  
Yukari's face paled and her eyes went wide in utter disbelief. Both of her hands clenched tight until she felt her nails digging into her palms, and her chest began to heave slightly. She could have killed him for that. She wanted to. She turned to him and took a step forward. The man stood his ground and waited for the attack. The grin never left his face.  
  
Yukari's temper was boiling over. How could he have spoken of such a thing so lightly? But if she were to attack him, it would mean a possible end to her life. If it didn't mean an end to her life, then it would certainly mean that she would have to find another dealer, and that was a risky undertaking. She wouldn't lay a finger on him. He knew it, and she knew it.  
  
The dealer smirked and sauntered over to her. Once he was close enough he leaned in and whispered harshly.  
  
"That's right. 'Cause that's all ya good for. Worthless little cunt ain't never gonna get off yer back. We ain't lettin' you."  
  
Yukari nearly snarled as she tore herself away and started back down the side walk. Just because she wouldn't say anything to him didn't mean that he could control what happened to her like that. She was taking control right now by removing herself from the district for the night. It was a lot safer to fix up in her house anyway. She was the one who had the control over her life, not him, and that was all there was to it.  
  
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1. "You are smart like old gum." (French)  
  
2. "Employ then a translator." (German)  
  
**Note:** The next chapter is more than likely going to contain some heavy shoujo-ai content. Be warned. :) Please R&R! And please excuse the translations if they're crappy. I think I got 'em right though. XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** It's probably a good thing that I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.  
  
**Note:** It took me a while and $63.47 but I'm finally up to date on Azumanga Daioh, with the exception of the fifth volume. Thanks for your patience. :) I know I said that this chapter was going to have some heavy shoujo-ai content, but I actually had to divide the chapter in half because it was so long. So shoujo-ai is in Chapter 7.

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**Chapter 6**

By the following Monday, Nyamo had learned to let go of her suspicions and allow things between Yukari and herself to return to normal. She still kept her eye out for odd behavior patterns in the language teacher, but that proved to be a futile effort for obvious reasons. No strange behavior that Yukari exhibited could have been pin pointed as drug-related whether it was being late to work, sleeping at odd hours of the day, neglecting responsibilities, or even lying.

They had gone out on Thursday and Saturday night with no special events happening except for Yukari freaking out to the sight of an orange cat that had perched itself outside of her doorway when they got to her house.

That Monday afternoon, Nyamo stood out on the track supervising her hour three class. She kept her whistle held loosely between her thumb and index finger, her dark blue eyes scanning over the students to make sure they kept out of trouble. This hour in the afternoon was when she had Yukari's class. Over all, the class did fine but still there were a few that seemed to have picked up on some of their teacher's habits.  
  
Over on the volley ball court Chiyo stepped back with one hand held firmly in the other. Above her the volley ball that Kaorin had served was descending with the speed and rotation that could have resembled a giant meteor to someone as small as the eleven year old girl.  
  
"Uhhh...I got it, I got it!" Chiyo wavered slightly and finally ducked her head to the side just in time to keep the ball from hitting her face. The ball bounced off of her and continued to bounce out of the court. Quickly she shook her head. "My fault! I'll get it!"

"Damn! That's the second time!" Tomo groaned and kicked angrily at the dirt. Yomi turned and frowned at the immature display.

"Would you shut up? It's just a game. Not like you've been contributing much to it anyway."

"What?!" The Wildcat balled her hands and glared. There was only one way that Tomo knew how to respond to such comments and that was with physical annoyance. She leapt forward and grabbed up the other girl's glasses to place them upon herself. "Ha! Let's see who contributes more now!"

Yomi growled and lounged for the hyperactive, glasses-stealing nuisance.

Sakaki stood off to the side and ignored the no-holds-barred brawl that ensued between the unlikely friends. Instead her attention drifted towards Chiyo who was still trying to catch up with the errant volley ball.  
  
Chiyo jogged after the ball that had bounced across the basketball court and rolled near Miss Kurosawa. Nyamo saw the ball coming and smiled, stepping forward to pick it up and hand it to the girl who stopped before her.  
  
"Thanks, Miss Kurosawa," Chiyo smiled brightly and reached up for the ball.  
  
"No problem. You're really getting better at the game."  
  
"I'd like to think so, but it doesn't help that I'm so small."  
  
"Being tall isn't everything you know," Nyamo laughed and set her hand to her hip. She found it odd how Chiyo was a girl who was always on the verge of being disgustingly cute, yet every time fell directly onto the 'adorable but not annoying' line.  
  
"Well some of the kids think I'm pretty smart. Even Miss Yukari says that I'm the best student she has. "

"Is that so?" Nyamo grinned softly. Yukari never dealt out compliments easily because she never received all that many herself. "Speaking of which, how is your teacher? Is she still late for class every morning?"  
  
"Actually she didn't show up at all this morning. A substitute came in and told us that the school nurse sent her home."  
  
Nyamo's grin faded.

"What happened? Was she sick?"

"I don't know. She never made it to class," Chiyo replied with a soft shrug.

"I see. Well you better get back to your game. It looks like the others are waiting," Nyamo motioned to the volley ball court where Tomo was jumping up and down and waving her arms wildly. Chiyo nodded and waved before running back to her friends.

The P.E. teacher narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. The notion that Yukari got sick wasn't completely inconceivable. No human was immune to illness, especially not teachers who were around children and young adults all day.

Nyamo had already made up her mind that she trusted Yukari. There was no reason to think that there was anything particularly wrong. At the same time, as an ever trustworthy best friend, Nyamo felt it was her responsibility to at least check up on her. It would be a short visit, in and out, and nothing more.

  
-----------

After school let out, Nyamo drove straight to Yukari's house and parked out front by the yard. Standing from the car she slammed the door behind her and jogged up to the front door to knock insistently. 

She was anxious. Ever since her conversation with Chiyo she had been plagued by horrible images of Yukari laying dead from an overdose on her living room or bathroom floor. Or if she really was sick then it could have been bad enough to land her in the hospital where doctors would find traces of substances in her blood. The school would be notified and Yukari would lose her job and wind up on the streets with nothing but her body to provide her enough income to buy her alcohol and keep her drunk during the day. Nyamo knew that both of those things were highly unlikely, but the little voice in the back of her head wouldn't stop with its 'what ifs'.  
  
A full minute passed and no one answered the door. She tried knocking again.  
  
"Yukari?"

Finally she shook her head and frowned. This wasn't the time to be hindered by petty customs. Yukari could have been passed out in the hallway and no one would have known it.

Slowly she tested the door knob and exhaled in relief when she found it to be unlocked. Kicking her shoes off she entered into the hosue and shut the door behind her.  
  
Aside from the house's unusually warm temperature, there was nothing else that seemed out of place.  
  
"Yukari," Nyamo called softly as she made her way to the stairs.  
  
At the top of the stairs she looked both left and right. On the floor of the upstairs hallway was a shirt, a sock, and a text book from the school. She frowned and tip toed by the items as though one wrong move could have caused them to explode at any moment.

At the end of the hall was the door to Yukari's room. She placed her hand against it and pushed it open gently.  
  
"Hey, Yukari?" By now she was whispering, though she didn't know why. The rest of the house was so silent that it just seemed like the right thing to do.  
  
Yukari's room looked the same as it always did. Clothes, books, video games, papers, and other miscellaneous items littered the floor. The cleanest places in the room had to have been the closet and the drawers where all of the items were supposed to go.  
  
On the far side of the room was Yukari's bed. It was a standard single-size on top of which were piled several layers of sheets and thick comforters. Nyamo was careful to avoid stepping on any objects as she traversed the room and stopped by the edge of the bed.  
  
The mass of light maroon blankets showed no sign of life beneath them. Nyamo had to observe them carefully before she discerned that they were rising and falling just slightly. Her eyebrows furrowed, and gently she grasped hold of the top blanket and peeled it back just an inch. Revealed from underneath the cover was a small bit of tussled brown hair. She pulled the sheet down further, and Yukari came gradually into view.  
  
The teacher didn't look well. Her cheeks were red against the paled complexion of her skin and her nose too held a slight bit redness. Nyamo touched the back of her fingers to Yukari's forehead and was surprised when she didn't feel hot or feverish at all.  
  
Yukari grimaced and stirred to the touch. She turned over onto her back and stretched languidly, brown eyes blinking open.  
  
"Wha-....Nyamo?"  
  
Nyamo quickly let go of the blanket and straightened.  
  
"Oh.......I just came by to check on you. Your students said that you were sick this morning."  
  
"Feh....It's just some bug that's going around," Yukari sniffed and pushed herself up against the head board to point at a box of tissues on her dresser. "Hand me those tissues would ya?"

Nyamo retrieved the box then came back to perch herself on the edge of the bed. She held out the box and Yukari nabbed up two of the tissues to blow her nose.  
  
"I hate sleeping with a stuffy nose," the ailing woman groaned and let her head fall back against the headboard.  
  
"There have been worse fates."  
  
"What, aren't you gonna feel sorry for me?"  
  
"You've been laying in bed all day while I've been out working. Of course I'm not going to feel sorry for you," Nyamo replied playfully and rested her hand to the top of Yukari's head.

"Hey, I'm suffering here!"

Yukari blew her nose again and crumpled the tissue up into her hand while Nyamo smirked.

"Yeah, I can tell."  
  
Yukari sighed. She hadn't really been feeling all that bad, just incredibly fatigued. Her nose hurt and her eyes were watery, but aside from that there was no reason as to why she couldn't have stayed at school. She didn't protest it though. It wasn't her fault that the nurses wouldn't let her teach just because she was exhibiting a few flu-like symptoms.  
  
"Well I am. You P.E. teachers have no idea what it's like."  
  
"What is what like? Teaching out of a book? Anyone can do that," Nyamo stated simply and folded her arms behind her head. "You try being up on your feet all day."  
  
"I am on my feet all day! It's not like I get much of a chance to sit down."  
  
"But you're not out playing basketball or swimming either."  
  
"Well.......sometimes I wish that I was...."

Yukari's voice took on a slightly softer tone as she let her head fall to the side and gazed blandly out the window.

Nyamo blinked once, a bit taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. It wasn't the first time she had heard Yukari complain about not being a P.E. teacher. However, it was the first time that it sounded like something other than pointless bitching.  
  
"Aren't you happy with your job?" Nyamo sat forward again to try and catch her friend's gaze.  
  
"I'm not unhappy with it......but sometimes those kids.....I can't stand to look at their faces," Yukari's voice dropped to such a low level that she was talking more to herself than to Nyamo. She was zoning out again. Absently she looked down at her hands. In her right hand, the tissue that she had used to blow her nose showed traces of red. Closing the tissue tighter into her palm she shut her eyes and slouched further under the covers.  
  
Nyamo watched her for a moment.  
  
"........You're really not feeling well, are you?"  
  
When she received no response she reached over and took Yukari's chin between her thumb and forefinger to examine her closely. Yukari had passed out.

Nyamo slowly stood up from the bed and leaned over to tuck the blankets around the sleeping woman.

"Poor thing..."

Hopefully with a little rest Yukari would be better by morning. It didn't seem to be anything serious. She didn't even have a fever, and if she did then it had broken some time ago.  
  
On the way home, Nyamo's thoughts didn't drift very far from her friend. She tried to discern whether the incident was cause for more suspicion than she giving to it. Perhaps she should have stayed, but there was no doubt in her mind that Yukari would call her if she needed anything. That was something that had never changed and probably never would.

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**Note:** Questions? Comments? Please R&R. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Azumanga Daioh or any characters thereof. This chapter contains explicit sexual content.

**Note:** This is actually the second half of chapter six but whatever. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 7**

It was dark by the time Yukari woke up. Feeling cold and shaky, she pushed the blankets off and propped up on an elbow. The entire room was pitch black and her eyes refused to adjust to it.

"Nyamo?"  
  
No answer. She reached over and turned on the light by her bed. As the room was brought instantly into view, she sniffed and looked down at her pillow to find a small spot of blood on the corner of it. She wiped the back of her hand under her nose and frowned when it came back with a streak of the same red substance.  
  
The bed creaked as she climbed from it and headed toward the bathroom. Her frown only deepened when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Blood had smeared from her nose and across her cheek. Next time she would have to monitor how much stuff she snorted in such a short span of time.  
  
She washed up and then headed back into her bedroom with arms hugged tightly around herself. The house was so cold and quiet. Everything was still as though she had walked into some kind of fantasy house of glass and steel. The curtains didn't shift, the clock on the wall didn't tick, and not even the papers on her floor could rustle without an air current in the room. The air conditioner hadn't been on in days.  
  
Suddenly she felt incredibly isolated. There was no one around but the tiny voice inside her head that reminded her that she was awake. If she didn't get something soon then she would start pulling out, and that was something that she didn't want to do.

The transition between grounded and high was often times unstable and always unpleasant. As awareness crept into the consciousness of the user and they became more alert of the empirical world, they consequently became more aware of themselves. Yukari always felt like shit when she didn't have something coursing through her system. Sooner or later she would have to figure out a way to keep within the pattern she had created for herself. She still had some money left but she wouldn't be able to afford her addiction for long if she didn't do something. She had to find another means of making money.  
  
She slumped down on the floor by her dresser and pulled out another bundle of items. She had lost her only syringe over the weekend and now had only dry substances to rely on until she could get another. The cloth she pulled out contained a lighter, a small sheet of tin foil, a small glass tube, and a packet of something that looked similar to brown sand.  
  
Sitting back against the wall she emptied a little bit of the grainy substance onto the tinfoil. Glass tube held between her lips, she clicked the lighter on beneath the tinfoil and inhaled the resulting fumes. It didn't take long before she stopped shivering and forgot how silent the room was.  
  
This trance had started several days ago and it had gotten harder and harder to shake. Almost every night last week she had met with her dealer. Sometimes he didn't have what she needed, and other times he did. It didn't matter which was the case because she always left him with a little something extra that she didn't have before she saw him.  
  
The means usually came in a form of powder or pill. She couldn't afford whatever she wanted anymore though. At least she had enough to last her until she went back to work.  
  
She carefully set the tinfoil and glass tube on the floor beside her and let her head fall back against the wall. The sensation that encased her felt like a thin blanket that was full of holes. The more she used the blanket, the more worn and tired it got. Still she could feel it groping around inside her brain. It was there, and it was tight, and she felt numb.

It wasn't what she wanted to feel, even though that had been her initial purpose for taking the drugs. Previously she had wanted to forget and become ignorant, but now she wanted to feel something. She wanted something solid and warm that she could actually put her hands on and touch, not just the translucent sensation of bliss that came with every snort, pop, and shoot that she endured to lull herself into a false sense of security.  
  
She pushed herself further back against the wall until she stumbled up into a standing position. The drugs in her mind were half-baked. They couldn't touch her like a human being. They couldn't talk to her or hold her. That's what she needed right now and there was only one living, breathing object on the rotting green Earth that could give it to her.

"Minamo...."

  
------------

Nyamo groaned and peered her eyes open to check the clock by her bed. 1:07 AM and someone at her door was ringing the doorbell over and over. This was the last straw. If it was those kids from down the street again then they were about to see the end of the world in the form of one very explosive P.E. teacher. She threw the sheets off and stormed across the room to the front threshold. Without even bothering to ask who it was she unlocked the door and threw it open.  
  
"Get the f-!"  
  
Her curse was cut short with an odd sense of de ja vu as the glare faded from her face. Yukari stood on the other side of the door, leaning against the frame. She was dressed only in the tank top and boxers she had been wearing to bed that evening and she didn't even have any shoes on.  
  
"That's no way to greet your best friend," the language teacher drawled slowly and parted her lips in a grin.  
  
Nyamo blinked and took a step back into the room.  
  
"Yukari? What the Hell're you doing here at 1 AM? You're supposed to be resting."  
  
"It's not my fault. You were the one that left me."  
  
Without a further word Yukari stepped into the room and slipped her arms around Nyamo's waist. Almost instantly her eyes closed and she exhaled an inaudible sigh. She couldn't remember the last time that she had really hugged someone. Human contact was something that everyone took for granted without even realizing it.  
  
"Yes, because you needed to rest. Now what's wrong?" Nyamo hardly knew what to think before she found herself with an armful of Yukari. She frowned and canted her head to try and get a better look at her friend.

Yukari wasn't the most physically affectionate person in the world. When it came to getting comfort, she never sought out a hug or a friendly conversation. Her comfort was always found at the bottom of a beer bottle, or as Nyamo had only recently discovered, at the pointed end of a syringe.  
  
Yukari smiled further. She had been mellowed out to such a lenient state of mind that she didn't care about upholding her image. She didn't care much about anything at all anymore.  
  
"Nothing's wrong....I just wanted to see you," her voice fell to a whisper as she lifted her head up. For the briefest of moments their lips came within grazing distance of each other, and within that moment their eyes made direct contact. Brown eyes molded with dark blue in a slow motion transfer of information that bound one to the other in an intimate contract of understanding. This was not something that was supposed to happen, and there was a slim chance that it would ever happen again. The only reason that it was happening was because of the unfortunate series of events that had consequently lead to it. The more that they both accepted this, the better off they would be.  
  
Nyamo was unaware of those exact events, but she would have been naïve to think that Yukari had come without a reason. The zealous woman never paid visits unless there was something that she wanted, and in the moment before their lips met in that solid connection, Nyamo realized just what Yukari was asking of her that night.  
  
The kiss was deep and too insistent to be mistaken for an accident. Yukari held her arms firm around the other woman, and by mere reflex Nyamo had to do the same. The kiss was cut short when Nyamo tipped her head back and their lips broke apart with an audible popping noise.  
  
"Yukari, what're-"  
  
"Shut up!....Just...." Yukari shook her head in frustration and brought Nyamo's face between her hands. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to have to explain herself. Was it so much to ask if she just wanted to touch another human being? She wanted to feel something and be felt in return, not just physically but emotionally as well. Nyamo was the only one who understood her enough to give her such emotional fulfillment and there was no way that she could have ever expressed that in words. Words meant nothing to her.  
  
"Just....don't..." she whispered and leaned back in, bringing Nyamo's lips back against her own.  
  
Nyamo had no idea what was going on and her mind was racing to try and decide whether what was happening was a good or bad thing. She and Yukari were best friends, but more than that they were colleagues. Relationships between teachers were strictly prohibited, not to mention the fact that they were both women and would be condemned for what they were doing.

And yet none of that seemed to matter when it concerned the complex between Yukari and herself. Everything always fell into this pattern. Yukari wanted something and it was Nyamo's place to provide it. That was the way it had always been and tonight was no different. If it was bad then Yukari shouldn't have asked for it because it actually felt quite good.

Nyamo reaffirmed her hold about the other woman and returned the kiss with unmistakable purpose. Walking further into the room she turned and guided Yukari back towards the bed.  
  
When Yukari felt the edge of the mattress press against the back of her knees she sat down. The kiss broke once more and her arms slid from Nyamo's waist to hold on around her legs. With the tip of her nose she nudged up the edge of Nyamo's shirt and touched her lips to the area of soft skin beneath. Half of her mind was aware of what she was doing. The other half knew only to follow what felt good to her, and Nyamo felt incredibly good and safe.  
  
Nyamo hooked her hands under Yukari's knees and pushed her further back onto the bed. Yukari went with the motion and pressed her feet firmly into the mattress as the other woman crawled up between her legs.

The motions weren't in the least bit slow or gentle. Nyamo slipped her fingers into the top of Yukari's boxers and yanked them down. Leaning back she tossed the item over her shoulder and then settled on her hands and knees above the other woman.

Yukari flattened her hands up along Nyamo's stomach and pushed the material of her shirt with them. Sensitive finger tips mapped out the dips and curves of the P.E. teacher's athletic frame. All those days spent out on the track and in the pool had paid off in the form of firm, sinewy muscles just perfect for Yukari's discovery of them.

Again they met in a rough lock of lips with each one trying to overcome the other in a heated contest for dominance. The competitive nature between them knew no boundaries, and neither one of them showed any signs of giving in. Yukari only sensed the control slipping from her side of the battle when she felt Nyamo's palm pressing firmly against the apex of her legs. The touch was demanding and she had little choice but to accept it if she was going to get what she wanted. She moaned softly and clenched her hand into the back of Nyamo's hair.

Within minutes the floor of the room was littered with their articles of clothing. The silence slowly gave way to the sound of the mattress springs as two forms shifted above them and Nyamo reached for something under the bed. Yukari wanted physical contact on this night and she was going to get it tenfold both inside and out.

At 1:26 AM, Nyamo was finally holding Yukari still and pushing the head of the slickened phallus inside of her. Yukari arched in immediate response and raked her nails down along the shoulders of her night time lover. This was the exact reason why she had sought Nyamo out instead of locating some random face in a bar. Nyamo was precise and confident in the way that she touched her, and she never asked anything because she already knew.

By 1:39 AM, Yukari was flat on her back and holding onto the headboard for dear life as she cried out into the darkness of the room. Nyamo was hunched above her, fingers digging into the curves of her hips as she pounded the language teacher hard into the mattress. Both of them were sweaty, half concealed beneath the sheets that still remained on the bed. The act in itself was a drug. Once again Yukari had lost control of herself, but tonight she had placed that control into the hands of someone she could trust without hesitation. Nyamo always took care of her when she needed it, even though they both knew that the care was repeatedly exploited and taken advantage of.

Yukari lifted her feet up and kept her legs spread wide to accommodate Nyamo between them. She was breathing so hard, her ragged pants expelled to the air just parallel beside her friend's ear.

Nyamo paid particular attention to the sound of those breaths. It was by them that she judged Yukari's condition. Whenever she penetrated too hard, Yukari inhaled sharply and skipped a breath. When Yukari wanted more, her breathing would grow slow and deep and she would press her feet further into the mattress to rock her hips upward. When everything was just right, Yukari kept her hips canted up and began to pant softly and staccato.

Nyamo too was breathing in a labored fashion. She ducked her head and sank her teeth into the soft skin of Yukari's throat. The marks left there would be visible for several days, but no one would have to know where they came from. Even if only for this night, Yukari was branded as her own. She knew that she had no actual claim to Yukari, sexual or otherwise. No one did. Yukari did what she wanted and that was just the way things were. That was one of the factors that kept her out of long term relationships. Despite picking up all the tabs, putting up with side handed insults, and having to deal with Yukari when she was drunk, Nyamo wouldn't have been willing to let anyone else do it.

Never had Yukari felt so amply filled with hot inches stretching and slipping inside of her to touch the most intimate part of her body. At her very core was where she was the hottest and Nyamo was the one connected to her and filling that core to the max. No drug could have ever done that, though some of them felt very close to it. As long as she was with Nyamo, it wasn't just about sex or primitive pleasure. It was about having something familiar and safe to hold on to when she felt herself slipping away.

The moment came when Yukari tore her grip away from the headboard and latched her arms tight under Nyamo's shoulders, nails clawing into the skin of her back. She closed her eyes tight and whimpered harshly as her entire body began to jerk of its own accord. Hot jolts surged throughout her entire frame and shot straight back down to the point of connection between Nyamo and herself. If Nyamo had been a man then she would have found herself gripped and milked hard of her substance by Yukari's constricting sex.

Nyamo continued to rock against the writhing form beneath her. When she felt Yukari tense she held her tight enough around her waist to keep their hips in contact with each other. Their rhythms fell quickly out of synch but not once did she pull out until Yukari fell limp against the bed sheets.

No words were spoken between them. Nyamo didn't ask anything, and Yukari offered no explanation for her behavior that night. It was this kind of understanding that had kept their odd friendship intact and full of rivalry.

When they fell asleep, they did so with Nyamo pressed up against Yukari's back. The favored tool that had only moments ago been embedded inside the language teacher had been dropped to the floor.

Nyamo wanted to keep Yukari safe just as any person would have wanted to do for a long time friend. Yukari wasn't looking to be rescued though. The only thing she needed to be rescued from was herself, and it was getting to be too late for that.

At around 5 AM that morning Yukari slipped from the bed and went about gathering her clothes. The drugs from last night had worn off and she felt herself hitting an all-time depression low. She only hoped that Nyamo didn't regret her actions. She herself tried not to, but she had to. In her drugged up state she had dragged her relationship with Nyamo onto a completely different level that she was nowhere near ready for. In this moment it was either to choose Nyamo, or choose the drugs.

Walking to the door she turned to take one more look at her best friend. Nyamo remained peacefully asleep among the tangle of bed sheets in a perfect image of serenity that she would never be able to forget.

Yukari wasn't stupid enough to believe that they lived in a perfect world. There were some things that would just never change, and she was one of them. The road she had fallen on was paved with a nasty addiction and an obsession that colored her existence gray and neutral. For the good of them both she left the apartment with full acceptance of the knowledge that she would never see Nyamo again.

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**Note:** If this chapter seemed a little weird, it's first of all because I edited it and second of all because in the other version Nyamo is a herm. Why is she a herm? Because! Now leave me alone! XD R&R please! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. Just a reminder that this story is rated R.

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**Chapter 8**

Nyamo woke the next morning with a vague tension pulling at her arms and the back of her thighs. Last night had definitely not been a vivid dream. Yukari had been there, and through some oversight in her own better judgment she had let her inside and they had.....

Her eyes blinked open.

"_Yukari."_

Something was amiss. On sore arms she lifted herself up lethargically and squinted against the morning light that spilled in through the partially closed curtains. The other woman was nowhere in sight, and neither were any of her clothes. Typical hit-and-run Yukari. Somehow because it was Yukari, Nyamo didn't care as much as she would have if it had been someone that she didn't know as well. Yukari had probably returned to her own house to clean up and get dressed if she was going to be at school that morning, which was doubtful.

At the thought of school, Nyamo groaned and shifted over onto her back. For the first time in months, she really didn't feel like going to work. She was exhausted and wanted to stay in bed all day. Alas, those kids were counting on her to be there. She tossed the blankets off and stood up to head to the bathroom.

Standing beneath the hot stream of the shower, Nyamo pondered the events of the previous night. She didn't know what she had been thinking. Or maybe she had, and just didn't care.

The friendship between Yukari and herself was vague and unusual. They weren't sexually attracted as one woman to another, and yet on some ambiguous terms they were indeed attracted to one another. They fought, argued, competed, and insulted one another constantly, yet when Yukari had shown up on her doorstep it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Nyamo to reciprocate her affections. In an odd way it was like they both knew that it was going to happen sooner or later. Yukari had picked the time, and Nyamo had been there to meet her. Not even the most esteemed of behavioral psychologists could have pieced that information together just by observing them. Any other time they were two competing forces always trying to gain a lead on the other and hardly acted like friends at all.

Yet there were those very rare moments when Yukari would actually look at her....

Yukari had such wonderful, brilliant brown eyes, though they didn't always shine with her true intelligence. Most of the time they were smirking or filled with a carefree nonchalance, and anyone who got to know that side of Yukari never really got to know her at all. Yukari wasn't entirely selfish and brash all the time. Somewhere behind the veneer of ramped competitiveness and irresponsibility was a woman who did have the inclination to be kind and think of a person other than herself.

There would be times, usually during the evening when she went out with Nyamo, that Yukari would just pause and grin softly. The grin never said anything, but it wasn't without its message either. It was reflective and congenial, and never lasted more than a few seconds at the most. Nyamo had never asked her why she grinned that way because a part of her already knew. It was that one implicit factor in their friendship, the keystone that had kept them together for so long. They needed each other, even if only for the sake of having someone familiar in their lives.

------------

During her lunch break that afternoon, Nyamo went to the faculty office to use the phone. She picked up the receiver and dialed the number to Yukari's house, hoping that Yukari wasn't asleep. She wanted to talk about last night and what it had meant between them. She tried to tell herself that it wouldn't have mattered if it had been a one-time thing or perhaps something more, but in the back of her mind she wanted the event to be a possible step in the direction of a relationship, as impossible as it seemed.

The phone rang seven times before she finally hung up. Maybe Yukari had been in the shower. She frowned softly. Or maybe she was being avoided. What else would have Yukari been doing during the day besides sleeping?

After her last class, Nyamo drove to Yukari's house and parked out front like she always did. She approached the front door, knocked, and waited. She seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. Looking up, she saw that none of the lights in the house were on, and a test of the door confirmed it to be locked.

After a few minutes with no answer, she turned and headed back to her car to sit and wait for a while. At this point in the evening she couldn't imagine where Yukari might have gone. All of the doctor's offices were closed, but maybe she had gone to the drug store to pick up some medicine. At any rate, she had to come home eventually.

Suddenly in the corner of her eye, Nyamo caught a glimpse of something moving. She turned her head and frowned softly as an orange cat crept forward from the bushes and made itself at home on Yukari's doorstep.

Nyamo had seen the cat previously. It had been there one night when she had helped Yukari home. As soon as Yukari had set eyes on the feline she had screamed and thrown her purse at it.

"_You're not the boss of me! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"_

"_Yukari, calm down!" Nyamo held her arms around the livid woman. Yukari was more drunk than she thought. The feline yawned blandly and paid no mind to the purse that had been hurled at it. It simply stood slowly and disappeared into the bushes._

Nyamo shook her head of the memory. After a moment of contemplation, she stood from her car and ran over to scare the cat away from the door. The cat leapt up onto the wall by the road and meowed in mild annoyance. Nyamo didn't want Yukari getting upset when she came home, though she didn't know what it was about that cat that Yukari didn't like.

-------------------

Yukari stood on the street corner across from club Io. The night was cold so she had dressed more conservatively in a sweater, long skirt, and knee-length overcoat to keep from attracting any unnecessary attention. She had made up her mind, and this was it. She couldn't wait for the school to let her return to work. If they based her health solely on appearance then she would never work there again. The money from her last paycheck was gone and right now she needed cash more than anything else. She had more than enough lesser substances stowed away in her sock drawer, but they weren't enough to hold her up for long. They could provide her a little money if she found a good target.

On the other side of the street she watched two men in particular who were sharing in an animated conversation. She knew that they weren't just talking, but dealing as well.

One of the men was tall with a face full of the piercings and some kind of tattoo on the back of his hand. He couldn't have been any older than herself, but his hair was thinning and what was left of it had been dyed an unconvincing shade of blonde. The flannel jacket he wore was ratty and several holes had been worn away in his jeans.

Yukari watched as the man suddenly shoved his associate backwards before storming off down the sidewalk. Now was the perfect chance. Casually she crossed the street and followed the perturbed man until they were a safe distance away from the site of his previous negotiations. She then caught up to him and stopped several feet short, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"Hey," she called in a matter-of-fact tone. When the man stopped and looked over his shoulder she quirked a small grin. "Need a favor?"

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**Note:** Short chapter, I know. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R for language, drug content, sexual content, and graphic violence. Don't read if you don't like it.

**Note:** **This is the revised version of this chapter.** The old version was an embarassment to my abilities as a writer of fan fiction. I don't know how I could have spent so much time editing it and still let so much stuff slip through. By the way, Yukari does not live with her parents in this story. If she did, then the story would have ended at Chapter 2.

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**Chapter 9**

Officer Mitani yawned and collected the papers that were scattered about his desk. It was nearing eight o'clock on a wonderful Saturday morning and he was stuck inside finishing up paper work that had been left by one of the officers of the previous shift. He didn't know why he had agreed to work the morning hours this week, especially during the weekend. His wife always complained when he wasn't around to spend time with their kids.

As he gathered the papers into a file, the phone on his desk rang suddenly. No prefecture was ever without at least seven phone calls in an hour. Sighing, he reached over and picked up the phone in the hopes that it wasn't another purse snatching.  
  
"Officer Mitani speaking..." He was quiet for a moment as he listened to the woman on the other end of the phone. She sounded like she was in a hurry. "Uh huh......Missing person?......All right, hold on."  
  
He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside the drawer was a thick file that contained various kinds of report and legal forms. He sifted through the file until he reached the section he was looking for and selected one of the papers. With his other hand he pulled out the pen from his shirt pocket and clicked the ball point out.  
  
"Can I get the person's name?......uh huh....Address and phone number?....Ok," his tone was more casual than the woman on the other end seemed to appreciate. He couldn't count the times that he went through this during every shift that he worked. Missing persons were usually teenagers that had run away or people that didn't come home when they should have. The reports that were filed were usually voided within a few hours when the person turned up.

He sat forward slightly and returned the phone to his hand, folding his other arm on the desk. "Has she ever gone missing before?............Have you tried contacting any of her friends or relatives?......I see. What about the hospital or other health care centers?.............um, ok. Go ahead and give me a physical description.........."  
  
When the weary officer finally hung up the phone, he slouched back in his seat and reviewed the report that he had just filled out. There was never any shortage of them. He sighed and shook his head as he got up to go make a copy of the document. The copy was placed in the Chief's 'in' box and the original was set into the file of other missing person reports. The file never got any smaller, but it never got any thicker either. He was not a man of such moral authority that he could have judged whether this was a good or bad thing and there was no use dwelling on it. He did know that there were too many missing people out there in the city, and if they truly were missing, then the chances of them being found were not good at all.

  
---------------------------

Nyamo clipped her cell phone shut and slumped down onto Yukari's bed with a deep sigh. She hoped that she was over reacting, but she also didn't think that she had acted soon enough. The possible consequences of her own naivety were weighing profoundly upon her shoulders as she looked down to the small glass tube in her hand. There had to be a logical explanation for everything, and in the case that she was looking at now, that logical explanation was turning out to be very grim. 

The night that she had waited for Yukari in her driveway, Yukari had never shown up. Every day since then, Nyamo had called and stopped by her house in the waning hopes that she would see some signs of life or at least that someone had been there. When she had called on Thursday, an automated message clicked on to tell her that the number she had dialed had been disconnected and to please hang up and try again. Asking other coworkers and students about Yukari's whereabouts had been fruitless as well. It wasn't surprising that no one had heard from the absent language teacher. If Yukari felt the need to call anyone then it would have been Nyamo, but there was still the possibility of someone seeing her around town.

That morning she had once again returned to Yukari's house and found that the front door had been left wide open. Since it was Saturday she had almost wondered if Yukari had just gone somewhere for the week and hadn't told her, but that didn't seem right.

It was common sense that a suspiciously unsecured house could be a potential danger. If someone had broken into the establishment, then whoever it was could have still been inside. Nyamo had been extra cautious when she crept up to the front door and peered inside. A closer examination of the lock and door handle disproved the suggestion of a break in. Whoever had opened the door had definitely had a key.

After grabbing up the first thing that could have possibly been used as a weapon, in that case it had been an umbrella, Nyamo had searched the entire house for signs that someone had been there recently.

Everything about the house had said otherwise. The inside temperature was hot and the air was thick. There was no electricity or running water and the dishes left in the kitchen sink had obviously been there for quite a few days.

The only room in the house that seemed to have been modified was Yukari's bedroom. All of the sheets on her bed had been torn off and all of the drawers had been rummaged through. Her TV and stereo were both gone, but Nyamo was reluctant to think that the house had been burglarized because there were other valuable electronics that hadn't been touched like her games and gaming system.

Nyamo had carefully traversed the cluttered area. She didn't really know what she had been looking for. It must have been Yukari who had returned to the house for some reason and she didn't believe that it was just to pick up her TV and stereo.

On the floor by the dresser was where she had found a big portion of her answers. The item itself was small and half buried under a shirt, but the sun light had hit it just right to make it glimmer briefly.  
  
A sheet of tinfoil, no bigger than four inches across. Beside the tin foil there had also laid a small glass tube. Curiously she had picked up both of the items and examined them closely. The piece of tin foil had a burn mark on the underside of it and whatever had been burned on top of it smelled akin to scorched popcorn.

Nyamo had stood there for a moment, completely mindless. Then all of a sudden every last bit of air expelled itself from her lungs. What she had held in her hands was the incriminating evidence that she had been searching for all that time and hoped that she never found. In a flash she had yanked out her cell phone and dialed the prefecture police department.

Now she sat, still numb and unwilling to accept the reality of her own ignorance. Yukari had been lying to her all that time. Straight, bold lies right to her face. 

Previously, Yukari's habitual inconsistencies were something that they both comprehended and understood. When Yukari said that she would pay for things when they went out, they both knew that it wasn't true. When they made a bet on something, the deal was always that Yukari would earn the easy rewards and Nyamo would have to fight for them if she didn't.

The situation that Nyamo was faced with now was something that surpassed those juvenile confrontations. For an entire week, and likely even longer than that, her friend could have been involved in any number of dangerous practices while she, mistaking her ignorance for the good faith of a trusting friend, had been left in the dark about it.

She should have paid more attention the night that Yukari appeared as a drunken, beaten mess at her door. The puncture mark on her arm. When a person starts using drugs, it's rare that they start out with drugs that need to be injected. Yukari had been a user long before she showed up that night and Nyamo had never even seen the signs. With Yukari it would have been hard to. Her lazy, irresponsible, unstable, lying ways hadn't changed since highschool.

Nyamo sighed and slipped the glass tube into her front pocket. She knew that Yukari hadn't exactly gone missing. Yukari had obviously been around long enough to trash her own room and steal her own electronics. Maybe notifying the police had been a little presumptuous, but it would help if there were other people out there looking for her. The city was enormous and Yukari was only one person. She was one person among hundreds of others like herself, but there was still a difference. None of those other people had Nyamo looking out for them.

Nyamo stood up and strode from the room. She wasn't going to find her friend by sitting around and feeling guilty. She made sure to close up the house before she left and drove back to her own apartment.

That night, she grabbed her coat and took up a framed picture from her dresser. It was a picture of Yukari and herself at one of the school sports fests. Yukari had her arm around her and was leaning towards the camera, flashing a peace sign with her other hand and smiling brightly. Nyamo remembered when the picture had been taken. Yukari's class had won the sports fest, and that night Yukari had gone out and spent every cent of her victory money on alcohol and steak.  
  
Slipping the picture into her pocket, Nyamo headed out the door of her apartment. It was clear that Yukari wasn't going to return on her own. If Yukari wouldn't come to her, then she was just going to have to find Yukari. Unfortunately, the city was huge. She didn't know anything about where a person would have gone to get drugs or even where those kind of people hung out. Asking around wouldn't have been wise lest she run into an under cover policeman. She would simply have to pick someplace and start. 

  
---------------

Yukari grunted as she was thrown back against the bathroom wall. The room in her head was spinning so fast. None of the colors and sensations made sense. One minute she had been polishing off a shot, and the next minute her body was hurting, and she was bleeding.

The floor that she slumped against was made of tile, a sickly yellow surface that hurt her eyes to look at it. She curled up on her side and tried to tuck her knees against her chest, but it was no good. The dealer was already walking towards her.  
  
"You disrespect me?! Of all people you disrespect _me_?! Fuckin' whore!" he stormed up and slammed the toe of his boot straight into the woman's stomach.  
  
Yukari screamed again and felt herself become ill. She would have thrown up if there had been anything in her stomach, but what lack of contents there was left her dry-heaving against the floor. For a moment she was convinced that she was going to die if she wasn't dead already.  
  
The dealer reached down and closed his fingers around her throat to haul her back up against the wall. For the past hour he had been venting his grudge against the miscreant woman and he wasn't feeling any better. No amount of blood or screams that he could draw from her would make up for what she had already done.  
  
"I trusted you. I was fuckin' _good_ to you!" he hissed up close to her face. Whirling around, he threw her down onto the bathroom floor. "This is how I get repaid, huh?"

Yukari landed hard against the floor and felt it connect solidly with her head. She shouldn't have taken that last shot. It must have been laced with something because her pain was delayed. The physical response surged through her body a moment before she felt the actual pain sink in through the back of her skull.

"I didn't......I needed the money....." she managed to cough out and rolled onto her side. His attacks on her kidneys would already have her pissing blood for a week. It was all she could do to hug her arms around herself to try and protect her more vulnerable areas.

The man stepped up and shoved her onto her back again to press his boot down over her throat.

"So you tried to do business in my turf? That's _my _money you're takin'!" He shifted his weight onto his foot.  
  
Suddenly Yukari found that she had taken her last breath. She clamped her eyes shut and lifted her hands to the dealer's boot only to also find that her fingers had pretty much lost their ability to grip. Her mind was telling her to do something and her body could only do its best to respond. The level helplessness was maddening, but she was too focused on getting air to lose her temper.  
  
The dealer growled and raked his hand back through his red-streaked hair. He almost wanted to laugh at the situations that he found himself in. Nothing was ever funny anymore, especially when it concerned money, but if he didn't laugh then he would be forced to take the bleak reality as it came. That humorless laughter would turn into a depression, and that depression would turn into dead haze of methamphetamines. This evening he needed his wits. He waited until Yukari's choking sounds ceased and she almost stopped moving before lifting his foot back up.  
  
Yukari gasped with the dire need for air and tried to get up onto her hands and knees. The sudden intake was such a shock to her lungs that she ended up coughing harshly and falling back against the floor. She hated the dealer for what he could have done to her. He could have done anything and she wouldn't have been able to protest. What a fitting way for someone like her to die: worthless and never understood.  
  
The man watched the woman writhing pathetically on the floor. The effects of his punishment were soaking red through several areas of her clothing and she just might have sustained a few broken bones. It was no better than she deserved. She had to have been stupid to think that she could sell in his territory. Either that or she must have been that desperate.  
  
He crouched down beside the beaten woman and tugged out a bandana from his back pocket. His Jekyll personality faded abruptly and his vice grew unnervingly soft.  
  
"Look...I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you out, but you just keep doing these things...." He used the cloth to wipe away the tear streaks from Yukari's face. He didn't like to consider himself as a woman beater. It happened from time to time, but only when there was a good reason. Women were special to him in their own little way, and ones like Yukari didn't come around very often.  
  
Yukari flinched and rolled to face away from the dealer. Up until that night, her scheme for getting money and drugs had been working perfectly. She received and sold her substances at night and usually partook of them during the day, but someone had obviously ratted her out. It wasn't her fault that the best dealing strips were already claimed. Everyone had to get by somehow.

The man turned her back to face him. He could tell that Yukari was slowly but surely wasting away. It was just a matter of time until she really over did it. None of that was his problem. What he had now was a woman who owed him for not taking her life. Previously he had needed the antipsychotics that she supplied him, but now he had something better. The rule of mutual reciprocity would pay off big this time. He smiled like true prince charming and tucked his bandana back into his pocket.

"Ya gotta know that I'm not a bad guy. I can help you get what you need, but you're gonna have to do some things for me in return."

Yukari sniffed and wiped at her bloody nose. She was in no state of mind to be making propositions, and yet it didn't really matter. Just by making simple eye contact with the man, she could tell that as he was suggesting a negotiation between them he was actually demanding her unwavering cooperation. His fingertips grazed gently along her cheek and slipped further down to curl around her throat. No pressure was applied but the implication was there. It was in her best interest to agree to his terms.

The floor was cold against her back. She winced and shifted, turning her head away from him to focus instead on the bathroom that she had been dragged into. It was a public bathroom that looked as though it hadn't been used in years. There were only three stalls, and the door of the last stall was hanging crooked from its hinge. The single light from above cast an odd light. The light was greenish, caused by mildew that had grown around the cover, and would flicker every time someone walked by outside.

There was no use in protesting. After a few moments of wasteful contemplation she nodded her head.

"Fine...Whatever. I don't care," her vocal chords barely managed to create the words after having almost been crushed beneath the man's foot.

The dealer shifted and sat down on the grimy floor to bring Yukari's head into his lap. His smile was easy as he brushed her hair back from her face.

"No worries. I told you that I'd take care of you," he whispered and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Added with his usual, sporadic flow of cash, Yukari was his ticket to reaching the next level of status. She was going to more than double his income, and all she needed in return was a small dose of something to keep her on the edge of apathy and bliss. Both of them would benefit in their own way for as long as Yukari lasted, and by the time was she was gone there would be another girl to take her place at his side.

---------------

**Note:** Holy Chicken Scratch! Can it possibly get any worse? Of course it can! It can always get worse! And chicken scratch is slang for a person crawling around on their hands and knees looking for crack. How's that for a little foreshadowing? XD


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R for language, violence, sexual content, and drug content.

**Note: **Be warned that there's a scene of nonconsentual sex in this chapter. I thought about leaving it out but there are aspects of it that add to the story. Instead, the more graphic details of it have been edited.

**

* * *

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Chapter 10

Nyamo's search was one that could have been classified in the books as 'blind." It would have helped if she had been in the least bit club-savvy, but there was only one club that she actually knew the name of. The club was called Ovis, and she only knew of it because she had heard a few students talking about it a long time ago. Whether or not Ovis was a place of low security where no one cared if a person popped or snorted had yet to bee seen. It was place to start, and that's where she told the cabbie to drop her off.

It had been several years since Nyamo had been to any clubs. She had never really been much of a dancer and loud music just wasn't her thing. It was only because of Yukari that she had ever gone to any at all. Yukari loved to dance and she was actually pretty good at it before the inevitable bout of intoxication consumed her. That's when Nyamo would serve her sole purpose for the night and escort the stumbling woman out of the club before she got into a fight or threw up.

Approaching the bright, neon green sign of club Ovis, Nyamo looked at the line of people standing just below it. Men and women, both dressed casually in jeans or khakis and simple shirts, not the kind of attire that Nyamo remembered people wearing at the few clubs that she had been to. A large man stood at the front entrance to the club, collecting money and checking IDs before letting people past him. Another man behind him served as a second check point. When a person stepped up he would motion for them to stand spread-eagle while he padded them from shoulder to ankle. Security was clearly a priority here.

As beneficial as it would have been for Nyamo to check out the inside of every club herself, she wouldn't have been able to afford all of the entrance fees. There was an easier way to find out if Yukari had been to a club recently, assuming that the bouncer's memory and integrity was reliable.

She bypassed the other people in the line and made her way to the front, slipping out the picture from her pocket as she did. The bouncer seemed not to notice as she stood just off to the side of the black, nylon rope that separated those who were going into the club from the rest of the world.

"Excuse me," she stood up on her toes and waved her arm to try and get the man's attention.

The bouncer didn't notice her as his attention was on an ID card that he held in his hands. Several times he looked back and forth between the card and the girl in front of him. The girl stood with one hand propped on her hip and a casual grin that faded when the bouncer removed a pair of scissors from his back pocket and cut the ID in half.

"No one under 18 allowed," he stated plainly and motioned to the other man who stepped forward and unhooked the nylon rope, putting his other hand to the girl's shoulder. The girl opened her mouth and barely had time to let the first obscenity fly before she was shoved out of the line and onto the sidewalk.

The exchange of threats and verbal abuse between the second bouncer and the offender lasted several minutes. Nyamo waited for the girl to depart before trying again.

"Hey! Excuse me," she called a little louder.

The first man arched an eyebrow and peered briefly in her direction before turning back to his work.

"The line starts down there lady. One thousand yen(1) and a photo ID."

"I don't want to go in. Just tell me if you've seen this woman," she replied and held up the picture of Yukari and herself.

The bouncer collected the money from the next person and glanced at the picture. He then smirked and shook his head.

"Lady like that looks too old to be comin' here. I never seen her, but if I did then I don't remember."

Nyamo frowned and lowered the picture. His answer didn't really help her, but looking at the people going into the club, they really didn't seem like Yukari's company crowd of choice. They were all cookie cutter individuals with uniform diversity that allowed them to express themselves as long as they remained within certain guidelines of what would keep them into the group. She sighed and tucked the picture back into her pocket.

"Thanks..."

The rest of the night proved to be equally worthless. With Yukari's picture as her only reference, she asked everyone from bouncers to random club-goers to policemen to convenience store owners. None of them had ever seen Yukari before, and what was more frustrating was that the chances of them having seen her were ten million to one. Each time she asked a person, they would glance at the picture and then shake their head helplessly. To them, Yukari didn't mean anything beyond the goofy smile, bright brown eyes, and long brown hair that showed in the picture. She was just another meaningless face among the thousands that wandered the streets.

Nyamo's search didn't end that night. When nothing turned up, the next night she went out and tried again, and then the night after that, and the night after that. She visited clubs of every theme and genre, asked all sorts of people, and resorted to several different measures. The inconsistencies were maddening. A lot of the people she asked didn't know if they had seen Yukari or not. Some said that they might have, and others said no. No one ever gave her a definitively positive response, but it still wasn't enough to dissuade her. She could never ask too many people. If she asked a person and they didn't know, she couldn't help but wonder about the person next to them, or perhaps the person at the end of the block, or the one snuffing his cigarette against the side of a building. There were new people to ask every night that she went, but the answers never changed.

It took her an entire week to search the clubs and streets in her starting vicinity. Her usual eight hours of sleep per night dwindled down to six, and then to four, and sometimes to three or two. During the day she was listless and irritable. Her students didn't talk to her as easily as they used to, and by the middle of the week they had more or less come to expect her one-word answers and vacant expression, if she actually listened to them at all.

On the ninth night of searching, Nyamo decided to switch tactics and comb a new area. As bad as it was for her to admit, the places that she had been searching didn't seem like the type that would cater to drug users or enable their habits. It was her best assumption that Yukari would have gone to a place that would have done just that. The problem was finding those places.

Nyamo was careful about who she asked on the matter. She tried not to ask people who looked old enough to be policemen. The reason as to why she was trying to find drug houses would have been irrelevant to them. They would have interrogated her and she didn't need law enforcement riding her back about something that she wasn't doing.

A well-trimmed teenage boy seemed to at least lead her in the right direction.

The boy had been standing on a street corner when Nyamo approached him. She had chosen him because he had been by himself instead of in a group and there would be no one to ask questions when she beckoned him aside. Only seconds into the conversation did she realize that it was very difficult to craft her words in such a way that she could say what she needed to without actually saying it.

"All right...What I mean is...It's like...I was wondering about...um..." Nyamo shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to keep herself from looking at the ground. She didn't want it to seem like she was a junkie looking for a hook up.

The boy looked at her blankly. He didn't have much experience with the opposite gender and he wondered if all females talked to guys like this. In his mind he sifted back through the lesson on human relations in his life management class to judge whether or not she was hitting on him. It would have been easier to tell if she had been holding a wine glass.

Finally Nyamo sighed in frustration and took out the picture from her pocket to hold up. To Hell with being careful. The boy was too young to be a cop and who cared if he didn't believe why she was looking for druggie congregations? "I think my friend may be in trouble and I need to know where people go to get drugs." She never imagined the day that she would be asking random people on the street about locating drug users. She felt like an idiot, but there was nothing else that she could have done.

The boy blinked and was silent for a few moments. Then a sly smile pulled across his lips.

"Ooooh I get it...You must mean the Set Strip, or whatever they call it," he drawled the words in such an overly cool fashion that the slang ended up sounding awkward coming from him.

"Set Strip?" Nyamo frowned in slight confusion. She had lived in the city for her entire life and she had never heard of such a place.

"Yeah. Ya know, base houses an' stuff?"

"Um...base houses...sure."

"Yeah, it's way across town. Train is the best way to get there."

"Do you know which stop?"

"Never been there myself. You'll probably know it when you see it."

"I see...Thanks," Nyamo nodded before turning and walking off down the sidewalk to hail a cab. At least now she had a new word to add to her search vocabulary. Set Strip. Maybe the term referred to the more impoverished part of the city, but poverty didn't always bare with it the presence of drug pushers. Drugs were in every level of society, from the homeless on up to the filthy rich. There had to be some covert system where substance creation and manufacturing took place. She decided that she would make one more stop by the police department before heading home. If it turned out the police still didn't have anything, then it was off to the Set Strip she would go.

The Set Strip, whatever and wherever it may have been, sounded like a rather ominous place. She imagined neighborhoods of run-down houses, and streets lined with drug addicts slumped against building walls. She didn't want to venture there, but she would if she had to. What was scarier than thinking about going there was thinking about Yukari being there and having been there for the entire time that she had been missing.

* * *

Yukari watched as a small amount of blood leaked back up into the syringe. Confident that she had penetrated her vein, she emptied the works into her system then lazily dropped the syringe onto the floor by the mattress. The room that she was in was hot and dark except for the illumination of a few candles. She didn't really know where she was, but she knew that she had been in the room before. The walls were made of brick, and the floor was dirty concrete. There were pipes that ran along the ceiling and she knew the route of each one.

On the other side of the small entrapment, the dealer sat on an old wooden crate. In front of him there was a cardboard box with a plank of wood on top that he used as a table. Yukari turned her head to look at him. He was wearing a white beater and a pair of baggy jeans, his muscled form for once revealed. His back was to her so she couldn't see his face, but he seemed to be deep in concentration.

The man frowned and shook his head at his work. On the makeshift table in front of him there were several, small white squares that he cut into a powder with a razor blade. Since Yukari's flow of neuroleptics had been severed, he had been forced to resort to other, more expensive means to meet his demands. The white squares were the last of his supply of benzocaine that he had to use in place of the antipsychotics. The benzocaine when cut with his small stash of cocaine, would make for a nice O.Z. of crack.

After he finished cutting all of tablets, he used a piece of paper to carefully scoop the powder into a little plastic bag. The plastic bag was tucked into his pocket before he sighed and looked over his shoulder at Yukari.

Since their encounter in the bathroom, he had done well to take her under his care. He had thrown away her old clothes and gotten her into something more fitting for her purpose. Sweaters and ankle-length skirts made her look too conservative. Instead he had gotten her used to tank tops and mini skirts. Her clothes were never all that remarkable or expensive and it was better that they weren't. The important thing was that they were appealing and easily accessible.

He stood from his seat and went over to the mattress where Yukari laid half asleep. It was no wonder that she was tired. In just that night she had earned him enough to last them through the week. Slowly he crouched by the sedated woman and took her hand between his own, frowning when he saw her arms. He would have to do something about the puncture wounds in the crooks of her elbows. The presence of blood made her less appealing to potential customers.

Yukari stirred and shifted onto her stomach with a disenchanted sigh. If it wasn't for the kindness of her dealer then she would have been miserable. She would have been cold, aching, lonely, and conscious of the men who grunted and sweated above her about three or four times every night. It had been a few days since she had eaten anything because she often mistook her hunger for withdrawal. Her dealer solved those problems as well, sometimes with more drugs and other times with actual food.

The man let go of Yukari's hand and crawled up onto the mattress above her.

"Hey...You awake?" he spoke softly and leaned down to nuzzle the side of her neck.

Yukari groaned and closed her eyes tighter.

"I'm dead..."

"You look like it." He reached one hand down and pushed Yukari's skirt up over the curve of her ass. Drugs were more than just a habit for him. They were a fetish. He loved them for what they were, he loved them for their value, and he loved them for what they did to his women.

Yukari's listless brown eyes cracked open when she heard the warning sound of a zipper being pulled undone. This would be the third time this evening. Combined with the heroin coursing its way through her system, her lack of energy didn't allow her the benefit of a physical protest.

"Don't..."

"Don't what," the man replied with a playful grin. His jeans fell to his knees and he turned his hand upward to spit into the palm of it. His sadistic preferences got him hard to the knowledge that he had a woman who was vulnerable and unable to fight even if she had been in the state of mind to do so. He curled his fingers around his pulsing erection and used his other arm to drag Yukari back onto his lap.

Yukari winced when she felt the shaft press against her sensitive opening. Trying to close her legs only succeeded in her knees pressing against the outside of the man's thighs, but there was no use in denying it anyway. She yelped when the man pushed his way inside of her. Her body wasn't used to such treatment and it never would be. The only thing she could do was what she did every time this happened. She let herself go limp and waited for it to be over.

The man groaned as Yukari's body encased him to the hilt. No other man would ever have the pleasure of feeling his woman the way that he did because no other man was allowed to enter her without a condom. The general unavailability of condoms made the practice of safe sex a rare occurrence, and no one ever really worried about catching anything anyway. This was primarily because at night when most men in the projects got hot, they also got high and didn't worry much about anything at all.

As most everyone had their secrets, so did this particular dealer. His phobia was germs of the body ever since his brother, a tough intimidator of a man, had been taken down by syphilis. This uncontrollable, illogical fear prevented him from reusing needles or fucking a woman without getting her tested first. In effect, his resources were always low and his sexual experience was significantly limited, making him rather unpopular among others like himself. Yukari had quickly changed that. Now when men approached him, he could offer them bliss of both the mind and the body at a price that benefited his needs. The only drawback was that he had to buy condoms, and a lot of the men didn't want to use them, but when they were desperate enough for sex they were pretty much willing to do anything.

The brunt of the session lasted for about seven minutes. The man was sporadic in his motions, jerking between Yukari's legs like a large, grunting animal. He wasn't interested in their mutual enjoyment of the activity. He was desperate to release and Yukari was a fitting recipient.

Yukari did nothing for the entire time that the man was mounted behind her. Her cheek was pressed into the mattress, her arms slightly folded to either side of her head. She was beyond feeling anything anymore. Even the pain of the man's fevered penetration didn't rouse more than a wince. It was almost like her mind had set up a defense mechanism. If she concentrated hard enough on one thing, she felt as though she could have made herself disappear.

Her focus was on the door way on the other side of the room. The door was left half open, and in the open space there sat an orange cat. It was the same cat that had been there since day one of her crumbling securities. Sometimes she would see him in a window, other times prowling along the sidewalk, and still there were other times that he would show up at the most random of places. He would sit so calmly, watching her with a look that hinted at precognition as though he had seen her life a million times before. His healthy coat and weight indicated that he might have had an owner, but he had no collar. She wondered where he really belonged.

The cat yawned and then ducked his head to lick at the fur of his chest. Suddenly Yukari felt something hot and liquid jet into her body.

The dealer groaned and pounded erratically as thick whiteness surged from the head of his thrusting member. It took no more than a few seconds, and when it was over he quickly dismounted and collapsed to the side. Sex for him was always simple and never prolonged. It was always about one thing, and the quicker that he achieved it, the better it was. Yukari slumped back against the mattress and didn't even bother to try and push her skirt back down.

"Whose cat is that?" she asked softly, her eyes half-closed but never straying from the bright orange feline.

Yukari's question caught the man off guard and slowly he lifted his head to see what she was talking about. The cat remained there in the doorway just as nonchalant as always. He laughed and fell back against the mattress, folding his arms under his head.

"That old man? He's been here longer than any of us. Ain't nothin' he hasn't seen or known about. I'd hate to live through his eyes because…ya know...he knows what's up."

"So he's a stray..."

"Yeah… Just like the rest of us."

Yukari grew silent and carefully turned her back to the man. So she was a stray, but a stray from what? A society that had never accepted her, or that couldn't accept her the way that she was? She sighed. A long time ago she had stopped caring about the strange looks and her lack of friends. None of it had really mattered because there had always been something else for her to focus on. That focal point had been Nyamo.

Nyamo had been her best friend and her backup ever since high school. Oddly enough, no one ever had a problem with Nyamo but her. Nyamo had been the quiet one who still managed to make friends easily, and everyone just seemed to like her for their own reasons. Yukari had refused to admit that she just might have been a bit jealous. Instead of admitting jealousy, she had lashed out with petty insults and haughty remarks only to have Nyamo tolerate it all in infinite patience.

With a shaky sigh, Yukari shut her eyes tight and buried her face against the mattress. She could hear the dealer snoring softly behind her. The sound only made her feel worse like the empty leftovers of an unsatisfying meal. Tucking her arm under her head, she put her other hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs before they came. The tears were inevitable, sliding across the bridge of her nose and down into the mattress, but she made not a sound. It was her own fault that she was there on that mattress in that morbid little room. In her quest for something more positive in her life to cover up that which was bad, she was gripped with the realization that she was no longer flying, but drowning instead.

From his place in the doorway, the tabby cat stood up and yawned with obvious apathy to the woman's turmoil. He walked down the hall in search of some new meat. What energy there had been in the woman had clearly burned out a long time ago.

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**(1).** I would have been more than willing to just say ten bucks and leave it at that, but I know that if I did then some genius out there would have pointed out that they don't have dollar currency in Japan. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R for language, violence, and depictions of sexual situations. Don't read it if you don't like it.

**Note:** Hopefully I'll be able to continue this story a little easier now that I've gotten my school stuff out of the way. I emphasize 'hopefully'. o.o  
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**Chapter 11**

"What!" Nyamo slammed her hands down onto the vice principal's desk and looked at the older man sitting on the other side of it with absolute disbelief.

"Please, Miss Kurosawa. Sit down," the vice principal replied calmly and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers in front of him. He knew Miss Kurosawa to be one of the better teachers in the entire school. He had been surprised only minutes ago when the livid P.E. teacher had slammed open his office door and stormed in.

Nyamo would not sit down. Last night she had gone through Hell at the police department and this morning a chance encounter with one of Yukari's students had enlightened her to the fact that Yukari's substitute had become a replacement instead. She leaned further over the desk with a more than incensed glare.

"You can't just-!"

"She's been AWOL for over four weeks. I'm sorry, but school policy-"

"I don't care what school policy says! You've just given away Yukari's job to someone else! What's going to happen when she comes back?"

The vice principal softened his expression. There were times that he loved his job, and other times like this when he hated it. Similar to a doctor, his authority and experience gave him the right, and the burden, of choosing the lesser of two evils and telling people when their time was up. He sighed and sat forward to fold his hands on his desk.

"Miss Kurosawa….I'm not a bad person, but in a case like this we have to consider the facts."

"And what exactly are 'the facts'?" Nyamo straightened and crossed her arms. It irked her that the vice principal was playing this situation as though it was something laid out in a guidebook. There wasn't always a set plan for everything and he definitely didn't know anything about Yukari.

"You know what I'm referring to." He kept his gaze earnest and open with the P.E. teacher, watching her reaction carefully. "Ms. Tanizaki's record as a teacher isn't exactly spotless. She's habitually late, prone to angry outbursts towards her students, often sleeps during class, and I was informed by the local police that you filed a missing persons report on her some time ago with reasons related to drug use." He placed his hands to his desk and stood up from his seat."It's time to let it go. I'm sure that the police have done all that they can, and that you have as well. As much as we'd love to see Ms. Tanizaki come back safely, we have to think about what to do if she doesn't. In this instance, hiring a replacement was the best possible choice."

"How can you just say that! You don't know a damn thing about Yukari!" Nyamo clenched her teeth and restrained her hands at her sides. Not until that moment, not once since she had started her search for Yukari, had someone suggested that finding the language teacher would be impossible. She had known that it would be difficult, but she hadn't even thought about what to do if she never saw Yukari again.

"I know that she's been using drugs. That's all I need to know."

"No that is _not _all you need to know!" Pacing angrily in front of the desk she threw her arms up. "I can't believe—You know what? No. This is bull shit! Yukari is coming back, and _when_ she does I'm going to petition that she be reinstated!"

Without a further word, Nyamo turned and strode from the office and made sure to slam the door behind her. Outside of the administration offices, she made it halfway down the hallway before finally slowing to a stop. There were moments in each person's life when they did things that they never imagined that they would. Bitching out the vice principal of the school she worked at was in Nyamo's top ten list. She moved to the side of the hallway and leaned back against the wall to bury her face into her hands. It was very unlike her to lose her temper, and it especially never happened when she was dealing with her superiors.

Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew that she had reached a barricade that allowed her to move neither forward, nor back. She didn't know what to do. There was no one to talk to, no one who cared as much. Her visit to the police station last night had revealed that the authorities cared enough about Yukari to spare one hour of one officer's time last week to head down town and look for her.

For a moment Nyamo stood there in the hallway, her shoulders slumped and her train of thought derailed.

The floor and walls of the hallway in front of her, she noticed, were incredibly white. The color was not a hue of eggshell or shade of cream. The hard work of the prestigious school's underpaid janitors, what few of them were employed to sanitize the campus in methods that students were not authorized to, had kept everything spotless. No age-induced fading, graffiti, or trash of any kind. The high school had an image to uphold after all. It was probably no wonder that the other faculty members hadn't offered much help to find Yukari.

Perhaps the vice principal was right. The more she held on, the more it was going to hurt if Yukari never showed up.

'If' was such a misleading word. It held implications of presumptions and possibilities, potential occurrences, ultimatums, blackmail, and it re-enforced the idea that in life there are always options and the chance for different outcomes. There was no guarantee that Yukari was alive and well, and there was no guarantee that she wasn't. Regardless of whether Nyamo continued to search for her, there was the possibility that Yukari would show up anyway, or maybe she wouldn't. Searching for one person in the city of Tokyo was virtually an impossible feat, similar to searching for the metaphorical needle in a haystack. It did help, however, that Nyamo had been given a small hint of which portion of the haystack to search.

The Set Strip. It probably wasn't a physical place. Depending on where the police had moved in. Nyamo imagined that it was probably more of a system that moved from area to area over time.

With a heavy sigh, she straightened from the wall and frowned. It was time to make a decision. If she didn't find Yukari at the Strip, then she would have to let it go.

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Yukari laughed and lifted her arms high into the air. The man sitting in the chair beneath her had paid double for a little extra attention, and a lap dance was what he had requested. Yukari hadn't minded. She had found a happy place amongst the throbbing bass of the music, edged with only a small hit of something that she had taken over an hour ago. For the most part, she was finally feeling sober enough to smile genuinely.

The man in the chair had to have been in his mid thirties. His hair was short and spiked, fitting to the round structure of his face. The holes in his eyebrows and nose indicated previous piercings and there was a tattoo of three conjoined rings on the side of his neck. His name was Kano and he was the owner of the apartment where Yukari and the dealer had found a temporary safe house. Kano gave them shelter and food, and in return he got Yukari, to an extent and for a small stipend. Such visitors weren't uncommon for the people-loving Kano. It was how he made his barely-adequate living. Individuals who needed a place to hide or a secure place to hook up often made very temporary residences on his living room floor, couch, hallway, or bathroom.

Yukari smiled as she moved her body to the rolling beat of the music. She had always loved to dance. More specifically she loved the attention that she got when she did. If she had been paying close enough attention then she would have realized that she was tired, but she didn't care. For as long as the music lasted, she wanted to partake of it.

"I think you've done this before," Kano grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked with a woman. Most of the women that he came in contact with were hardly ever fully awake, much less responsive.

"What, like you thought I couldn't dance? I'll have you know that I'm one of the best, and I can do even more than that," Yukari replied with a haughty smirk. She reached down and gave the older man a gentle slap to the side of his face.

"I kinda got that feelin'. You looked like a lot of fun from the moment I first saw you."

Suddenly from out in the living room there came the sound of something slamming, and then splintering wood. The dealer burst into the small apartment and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Where the fuck is Yukari! Kano!" he shouted and scrambled up to his feet. The side of his face was bleeding heavily and his trademark designer jacket was gone along with his gold necklace and rings. From the living room, he lumbered down the hallway and bailed through the door of the bedroom. "Yukari!"

Yukari whipped her head around and Kano peered up over her shoulder.

"Yo! What's goin' on?" Kano chuckled dumbly. He was too high to get worked up over the presence of blood draining down his friend's face. He smiled and waved him over.

Yukari, her good mood suddenly broken, frowned and climbed off of Kano's lap. It would figure that in her life the good things never lasted all that long. The dealer rushed over and grabbed her by the arm.

"C'mon! We gotta go!"

"What! What the Hell is your problem! Lemme go!" She yanked her arm from the offending grip and rubbed the area with her other hand.

Kano lazily pushed himself from his seat. He didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn't worth ruining a good buzz over.

"Hey, man! It's all right. Slow down would ya?"

The dealer had no time for this. He was already out of time as it was. He lifted the bottom of his shirt and reached for the gun tucked into his belt. Yanking the weapon from its hiding place he pointed it straight between the older man's eyes.

"Shut it, Kano! Gimme your keys!"

"Shit!" Kano's grin suddenly melted when he realized that maybe his friend was being a little serious. With one hand raised in surrender her fumbled with his other to dig his key ring from his shirt pocket. The ring had three keys on it, one to the apartment, the other to his car, and the other to his storage compartment across town. "What's wrong with you?"

"Yukio knows we're here." The dealer snatched up the surrendered keys.

"Yukio? But I thought—"

"So did I! Now hurry up!"

Yukari had already had enough. One of the top ten things on her list of social peeves was being left in the dark about anything. Some may have related this to her tendency to be nosy, but she couldn't help it if she just liked to know what was going on. She stepped between the two men and pointed her index finger into the dealer's chest, unwisely ignoring the gun in his hand.

"What's all this about? Who the Hell is Yukio!"

"A psycho," Kano interjected, taking a nervous step backward.

"You can hear it later!" the dealer shouted and shoved Yukari backward. "Right now we gotta go!"

"Whoa, wait…." Kano mumbled. In a brief moment of clarity he was able to acknowledge the extent of his drug use. "I'm wasted, man….I can't drive."

"Like I can! You think this shit woulda happened to me if I hadn't been cuttin' a line?" the dealer pointed to the gash on the side of his face. He turned his attention to Yukari. They needed a ride, they needed it now, and she was looking clear enough. He frowned and tossed the keys to her. "Yukari, you drive."

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**Note:** Can you tell that I haven't composed anything in a while? I'm trying. XD R&R, lemme know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters. This story is rated R.

**Note:** Hm…Nothing to say really. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 12**

Throughout his life, the man otherwise recognized as Yukari's dealer had been exposed to as many experiences as he had been denied. As a boy he had regretted nothing because all of what he knew was what he saw before his eyes. His memories consisted of things like bombs made out of glass soda bottles, his older brother's ex-girlfriend, bicycles, and other things of such tangible states. Only within the past year had he started to think about the things out there that he would never experience. There were people he would never meet, things he would never do, and places that he would never go. One such place was the new theme park that had opened up. Magical Land. He had never been on a roller coaster before, but supposedly it was considered great fun to get strapped down into a seat and flung around like a helpless rag doll, or so he had heard what it was like. Though he would have to disagree if the experience of being on a roller coaster was anything comparable to being in a car that Yukari was driving.

Yukari gritted her teeth into a smile as she shoved the gas pedal to the floor. Kano's grey car careened around the corner of the intersection, nearly fish-tailing before righting itself onto the correct side of the road. In the front passenger seat, the dealer, still gripping his gun tightly in one hand flattened himself as far back into the cushion as he could. Absently his right foot pressed against the floor of the car as though to search for a brake pedal that wasn't there.

Three blocks ago, Kano had sworn off of alcohol and women forever in return for a chance to escape from the vehicle with his life. He hadn't been coordinated enough to fasten his seatbelt and presently remained in a fetal position on the back seat, screaming like a girl at the top of his lungs. Usually he took drugs to intensify his experience of life. The drugs gave his worldsensations that he simply go without.Experiencing those other-worldly sensations while at the same time being in a real life, 120 mile-per-hour surge of vehicular energy was not in the least bit fun. It was terrifying.

"Holy shit! Yukari, slow the fuck down!" the dealer shouted, nervously switching his focus back and forth between the road and the driver.

"What's the matter? Isn't this what you wanted?" Yukari cast a strange grin to the man beside her before jerking the wheel suddenly to avoid hitting a bus that had slowed down to accept passengers.

It would have been incorrect to say that Yukari was intoxicated or stoned, but also it wouldn't have been accurate to say her judgment was in no way clouded. She was balanced on the fine line between comprehension and haze. At any moment she could have shaken off the effects of her last hit and brought the car to a safe stop, but she didn't. She didn't want to. Whether in sobriety or under the influence, the fact remained the same. She was tired of feeling the way that she did. Day in and day out living with the constant tensions of wretched addiction was like being glued to a conveyor belt headed for a raging fire, and the only thing worse than death was waiting for it to happen. For once she was going to take control.

"What?! What the Hell're you doing?! Yukari!" The dealer's level of fear rose from mild trepidation, to elevated caution, and finally to stark terror as the car barely skimmed by the bus at ninety miles an hour. Yukari seemed not to notice.

"You know, I've had it! For six months I've been riding along with you, playing your games, and being your bitch!" Yukari looked back to the road just in time as she ran a red light and nearly hit a pedestrian who had started to cross the intersection. "I let you do things to me that I never thought I'd let anyone do!"

"Hey! I only gave you what you wanted!"

"How do you know what I wanted?! What I was looking for?! All you wanted was money so don't even try to sound like you were doing me any favors!"

From his would-be death bed in the back seat, Kano scrambled to the nearest door and hastily rolled down the window just in time as he lost the contents of his stomach all over the side of the car. With a groan he closed his eyes tightly and turned his head to face the back of the vehicle. If they were going to crash then he didn't want to see it, yet when he opened his eyes he saw something even more disturbing than a potential collision.

Several blocks behind them, another car swerved from around the corner. The car was stark white, an expensive make and model with an engine that roared an air of 'worth-more-than-your-life'.

Kano wiped the bile from his chin and yanked himself back into the car. Yukari and her dealer were still arguing at the tops of their lungs but he broke off the argument with a terrified scream.

"Yukio's on to us! Keep driving!"

The dealer shot a glance to the side mirror and paled when he saw the advancing halogen lights of that unmistakable white coupe. This time he knew that he had gotten himself in too deep and suddenly getting into a car accident didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Yukari frowned and checked the rear view mirror. Sure enough she saw another car racing towards them at an insane speed that did more than match her own. Her jaw tightened and she narrowed her eyes dangerously. She had no idea who this Yukio person was and she didn't really care. It was obvious that her dealer was in some negative way involved with Yukio, and whatever misdeed the dealer had done, he had effectively dragged her into his compromising situation. It wasn't right, and she wasn't going to stand for it.

She slammed her foot down onto the gas pedal and took a right turn towards the road that would lead them to Tokyo bay. This time it was she who would make the dealer scream. She had been screaming for six months and no one had heard a bit of it.

---------------

Nyamo tried to act as casual as she could when she stepped from the car of the subway. Immediately she knew that she was in no familiar territory. The subway station in this forlorn area of the city was desolate and marked with a peculiar air of menace. Oddly enough there were no homeless people lining the station walls. There wasn't anyone there at all. Turning up the collar of her jacket, the woman frowned and made her way to the stairs.

The ground above didn't seem quite so ominous. At least there were a few people coming and going along the sidewalk. The buildings along the street loomed tall, all of them tainted a sickly shade of polluted brown. Most of the windows of the buildings were black and lifeless, and those that were illuminated were done so behind rows of iron bars.

Some of the buildings were obviously abandoned. The doors of these buildings were boarded shut, but several of their windows had been shattered. If one were to look closely enough inside one of the busted windows they would be able to hear voices and make out the faint flickering of a fire.

Finding an exact address was nearly impossible in the city of Tokyo. With no many unnamed roads and crammed myriads of buildings, the only way that a person could locate a specific place was to find the general area and search by trial and error.

In this instance, Nyamo had been able to find the address of a dance club in this part of the city. Where there was one dance club, there were bound to be more. She only hoped that by the whims of some merciful god she was able to find someone who worked around the clubs who might have seen Yukari.

From the subway entrance she walked out to the nearest intersection and looked around for a street sign to tell her where she was. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a folded piece of paper and once again looked at the address she had scribbled down. Just as she had planned, the street of the address was the same as the one she was standing on. Now she only needed to search around until she came to the correct building number.

She tucked the paper back into her pocket and had only just stepped out onto the intersection when all of a sudden a car came barreling around the corner. She half expected the car to stop at the red light or at least slow down, but when the driver showed no signs of doing either she quickly retreated back onto the sidewalk. The car zoomed by at a frightening speed, and several moments later another one raced right after it.

The cars stirred up a powerful wind that left newspaper pages and other scraps of garbage fluttering in their wake. Nyamo watched the cars disappear around the bend, holding a hand to her chest as though to stop the rampant thud of her heart. She assumed that the drivers of the cars had have been racing, having heard of the street races that took place in select areas of the city. The events were insane, foolish, and illegal. Yukari would have made a great street racer.

On that thought, Nyamo ran a hand back over her hair and exhaled a shaky sigh. Nothing like starting off the night with a near death experience. She shoved her hands into her pockets and headed across the street, not at all looking forward to whatever awaited her.

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**Note:** Yay! Another chapter. I'm so proud. ::sniff::


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** This is a shorter chapter than what I usually do. Did it on purpose. Check the homepage, yo. : 3

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"_Hey, are you all right?"_

"_Just what is that supposed to mean! I'm fine!"_

"_Calm down. Those girls, I just thought that-"_

"_Well you thought wrong!"_

"_I see."_

"…_.."_

"_Well, um…...My name's Minamo. Wanna go get something to eat?"_

Yukari wanted to scream. For once, just for one measly time in her life, she wanted to follow through with something that she said she was going to do. On that dark stretch of road she raced Kano's vehicle towards the edge of the slums where the streets ended at a ledge above Tokyo Bay. Without a second thought she had decided to put an end to all matters, and now having made that decision, she owed it to herself, to her integrity, to complete it. Even if for one moment she thought that in some way she could escape from the Hell hole she had dug for herself then still it would be all over. The hole she was in now, she had been digging for years, and finally she was forced to accept the fact that she could never change. Nyamo had been right. She tightened her fingers hard into the curve of the steering wheel as she suddenly found herself squinting against the unprecedented sting of tears.

"_What the Hell are you gonna do with this stupid bear!"_

"_I don't know. Maybe display it by the front door?"_

"_You can display crabs too!"_

"_You don't display crabs."_

She had screwed up big this time, but then again she had always been one to mess things up. It had been the same during her high school days. No one had understood her. She hadn't even understood herself. She had always been so lively and full of energy that her habits had often made her little more than a nuisance to be excluded by her peers. They had always talked about her. She had heard their whispers in the lunch room, the locker room, caught their strange glances and smirks as they passed. On the outside they had never been able to penetrate her masterful façade of haughty indifference. She couldn't help it if she had a certain way of doing things that didn't agree with their standards of appropriate behavior. She had to be herself, and it had cost her a decent social life.

"_Kurosawa!"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_What did they get you!"_

"_Um…Hand bag?"_

But then there had been Nyamo. Nyamo who everyone got along with, who got along with everyone, who made friends as easily as Midas had made gold. It was no wonder that Nyamo had been the first one to approach her. Unassuming Nyamo with her good intentions, team spirit, and light heart. Their first encounter had been so awkward that Yukari had hardly known how to act. At first she had tried to nullify herself to see what exactly Nyamo had been up to, but over time she had relaxed when she realized that the athlete wasn't going to tuck tail and run. Finally it had gotten to the point where Yukari was acting like her normal, obnoxious self, and still Nyamo sat with her at lunch and didn't bother to hide their friendship from others. Instead of making her happy, this only made Yukari suspicious. She had started going out of her way to do annoying things as though to test Nyamo's friendship with her, to see just how much of a friend Nyamo was really being. It was something that Yukari had been testing for and hoped never to find, and still she had continued to push the limits like an idiot.

"_Now, now. I'll treat you next time we go out, ok?"_

"_That's a lie! It's a certifiable falsehood!"_

"_Oh come off it. When have I ever lied to you?"_

All the time when she went out with Nyamo, she insisted that Nyamo buy the meals, the movie tickets, or whatever else they were doing that would end up costing money. There were those times when Yukari would pitch in, but those times were quite rare. People could think whatever they wanted about this inconsiderate habit. They could say that she was mooching, that she was taking advantage of her friend, and even that she couldn't afford to pay for the things that Nyamo did. They would never understand or accept her reasons. To make Nyamo pay for everything meant to re enforce their friendship. Each time that Yukari asked, she was not simply asking for a favor. She meant it as though tosay "How much do you care for me. How much would you do for me".

And Nyamo had done a lot. More than Yukari had ever deserved.

The white coup was closing in fast. In her rear view mirror, Yukari could make out the details of its custom fenders, shiny hubcaps, and meticulously crafted front bumper. The dealer was still screaming beside her, shouting derogatory curses, threatening her with the barrel of his gun aimed at her temple, but oddly enough she couldn't hear a word of what he said. She knew that he wouldn't have pulled the trigger. If he had killed her, her body would have slumped forward and flattened the gas pedal to the floor. Up ahead she could see one of the bridges of Tokyo Bay coming into view. Her expression softened and slowly she glanced to the dealer.

"Tell me your name."

Cut off in mid sentence, the dealer blinked at the unexpected request and leaned slightly back in his seat.

"What?"

"Your name….Why doesn't anyone know your name?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?" he yelled and slid back the cocking mechanism on his gun, re aiming it at her head. "You're driving over a hundred fuckin' miles an hour and now all of a sudden you want my name? Just stop the car!"

"And Yukio?" Yukari turned her attention back to the road. The dealer followed her gaze as they flew past a "Tokyo Bay" sign, along with a "caution" sign, and then a "50 kmph" sign. Suddenly he realized that they weren't in for a potential collision. He was staring death right in the face.

"Shit! I don't care about Yukio! Stop the car! Stop it!"

Kano sat forward and gripped the backs of both seats tightly in his fingers. The drugs and the shouting and the stark terror had moved him beyond the point of tears. He sobbed loudly, his voice harsh and cracking as he joined the dealer in his pleas.

"Yukari, listen to 'im! Please stop! Just stop the car, please! C'mon, don't do this!"

Only a few hours ago Kano had been sitting in his apartment, well aware of the fact that he had nothing to live for. He had no family and his friends were just the people who stopped by to deal and play cards once in a while. His life had been going nowhere for the past ten years, his contributions to society had been less than minimal, and he had estimated that the future would hold nothing but the same old story. Now Yukari was threatening to take it all away, what little he had had. He didn't want to die and was right now willing to do anything, to give anything, for just once more chance.

Yukari knew exactly what was going through the minds of both the men, and neither of them earned one bit of her sympathy. They were just like her. They were outcasts and misfits, the self-serving individuals who took time for granted and thought of others as stepping stones to benefit their own interests. They deserved to be in that car just as much as she did, barreling towards the end of all ends in repentance for all that they had and had not done in their lives, for all those that they had harmed and disregarded.

"It's all right..." Yukari whispered to herself, looking up over the support beams of the bridge as they sped under them, racing towards the guard rail. It was odd that she should have been thinking of Nyamo at that moment. To see her face would have been nice, even if only a picture, but that would have been asking too much. It was more than enough that she was about to simply think of her then...and smile.

the end

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**Note:** Naaah I'm just kidding. It's not the end. Nowhere near it actually. Dammit I wish I had more time. T-T 


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I put off doing homework to finish this chapter. Shame on me. XD

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"_I'm so afraid…"_

At the last moment Yukari closed her eyes tightly and turned her head to the side. In a few minutes she would be dead but she didn't want to see the moment of impact. Hopefully she wouldn't even have time to feel the pain.

In one explosive instant the car smashed into the guard rail and the sound of the men screaming, of twisting metal and shattering glass filled her ears in a nightmarish cacophony. The impact sent her lurching forward, her forehead slamming into the steering wheel but still she kept her eyes shut. She wanted it to end. At any moment she just wanted to hurry up and see that bright white light and stop feeling everything all at once.

The car reeled violently to the side and suddenly Kano was no longer behind her but in front of her, screaming as he was sent through the windshield. The door against her right side imploded into the cab and both the side and front airbags deployed in her face. Up became down, front became back, and at once she found herself weightless, no longer feeling the pressure of her own body pressing down against the car seat. She could imagine what the car must have looked like, careening through the guard rail and sailing into the cold waters below.

The deafening screech of metal against concrete faded into the back round of her mind, and the darkness behind her eyelids that she had been seeing became an infinite black void. Finally she felt it at the very last moment of consciousness. Her struggle had ended.

* * *

Nyamo came to a stop at the corner of an intersection and looked up to check the road signs. From the way she had been going, she should have reached the club district by now and was beginning to wonder if she had been given an incorrect address. The road signs at the intersection didn't help her one bit, and if she was judging anything by the building numbers then she had actually been going the wrong way. 

"Damn…!"

That was it. With a frustrated growl she turned and kicked the base of the street lamp as hard as she could. Of course she only ended up hurting her foot and gritted her teeth angrily, limping backwards a step.

She couldn't help but think that some higher force had been toying with her in her efforts all this time. From the very beginning she had known that locating one person in a city as large as Tokyo was next to impossible. And yet it wasn't completely impossible.

There had remained one part of her that had believed that one day she would find Yukari. Either Yukari would return home, or by chance she would catch sigh of her walking along a sidewalk. Neither had happened, and day by day as the months drew on, Nyamo's optimism waned.

The Set Strip had been her last option. Her last hope. If there was any part of the city that was desolate and run down enough to deserve the reputation as the prime place for a person to fix up with illegal substances and participate in despicable activities, then surely she had found it. She hadn't even been in the slums for an hour and already she had been witness to more things than she ever cared to be.

Face to face with the homeless and despondent, the devious and the foreboding. In a junction of a sidewalk and an alley way, a youngish man had crawled from the shadows on his hands and knees. He hadn't paid any attention to her as she had passed. His focus had been entirely on the ground in front of him as though searching for something. As he shuffled along she could hear him whispering to himself, a jumble of half-formed words and sounds. On another street she had come across two teenagers crouched above the bloated carcass of a cat that had blocked up a gutter. One of the teens had a stick that he used to stab at the cat's abdomen, stringing its innards out onto the sidewalk.

Both of the sights had made her sick to her stomach and for almost the same reason. The reason was exactly what made this part of the city different from the part that she resided in. It wasn't just the ruddy buildings, the littered streets, or the ominous individuals. Everywhere, there was an inescapable sense of hopelessness and insidious boredom. The faces that she had seen were filled with the acknowledgement of a sort of droning existence, living through a seemingly endless cycle of days and heading towards no particular finish. If a person were to find themselves on any of these blocks out of no control of their own, they surely wouldn't have stayed there unless they had absolutely no other choice.

"Hey!"

A gruff voice suddenly called from behind her and she turned to see an old man sitting on the steps of a building. The man was dressed in a button up shirt, brown pants, and a matching brown coat. His skin was tanned and leathery and when he got to his feet she could hear his ankles pop. He had been sitting so still in the shadows that Nyamo hadn't even seen him when she passed. As he shuffled into the light of the street lamp she could see that his form was slightly bent over and his grey hair had thinned to almost nothing atop his head. She met his gaze with no small amount of caution, taking a small step back. His eyes were hard like glass and they looked her up and down with an equal amount of suspicion.

"You take that someplace else, young lady! There's no room for your type around here!"

Nyamo fought the urge to smirk at the man's implied accusations but instead frowned, absently tightening her fingers around the small bottle of mace in her pocket.

"What are you talking about? I wasn't doing anything."

"Don't give me that! You think that I haven't been living here long enough to know what goes on? I seen you walkin'. I seen you walkin' and suddenly you break out and slam your foot into that there lamp pole!" the man replied and thrust a gnarled index finger in the direction of the post.

"So what? It's not a crime to vent anger ya know," Nyamo's frown deepened. Clearly the man wasn't right in the head and she had no time to stand there and listen to him rant and rave over trivial things. Not about to turn her back on him, she took another step back but the man continued his meager advance.

"Venting anger, she says! Anger is what they call it now, huh? When a man come screaming from his house and throw himself into traffic, it must be anger! When a girl sit crouched in an alley with a mouthful of dead rat, it must be anger! It must be anger when another girl fall to the ground and puke up blood and then scream that he never loved her anyway!"

"What does any of that have to do with kicking a pole?" Nyamo made a disgusted face and was almost sorry that she had asked for an elaboration. The man stopped a few feet away from her and protruded his jaw stubbornly.

"I know how it starts! You think it's as simple as kicking a pole and the next thing you know, you're scrounging through dumpsters and asking anyone for anything that you could possibly shoot, pop, snort, or smoke!"

Nyamo blinked suddenly and her eyes went wide. Either she hadn't heard the man right, or he was mistaking her for an addict.

"You think I'm a…..Just because I kicked a lamp pole?"

"I knew it from the look on your face! Tense and frustrated like the lot of 'em! Now go on before I call the police!"

"No, no! You've got it wrong!" the athlete withdrew her hands from her pockets and held them up innocently. The last thing she needed was a cop on her tail, frisking her and wasting her time with meaningless questions about drugs which she neither used nor dealt.

"How can something that I've seen a million times before be wrong? Young woman walking by herself at this hour, looking around all anxious like because she can't find what she needs! No pushers here, that's for damn sure!"

"I'm not looking for—Ok, maybe I am but not like that!" she sighed and shook her head, reaching into her pocket to pull out the picture of Yukari and herself at the sports fest. By now the picture had become rather wrinkled from having spent so much time in her pocket. There were a few tears around the edges and the color had somewhat faded, but the image could still be made out easily. "I'm looking for a friend. Thought she might have come around here."

As she held the image out, the man squinted his eyes and took a step closer to take the picture between his thumb and index finger. By the look on his face she could tell that he wasn't entirely convinced.

"Never seen her before. You say she come here a lot?"

"I don't know. She disappeared some months ago."

"So what makes you think she'd be around here, hm? Sounds too convenient if ya ask me!" the man retorted and handed the picture back to her. Nyamo sighed again and slipped the picture back into her pocket.

"Nevermind. You're wasting my time."

She turned and walked away from the old man but hardly took three steps before she felt a hand rest abruptly to her shoulder.

"Now hold on! Just what do you think you're doing anyway?" Just a like a car salesman having a quick change of heart when a customer decides to leave, the man lightened his tone to a more curious one, almost concerned.

"I told you. I'm looking for my friend," she replied calmly and shrugged his hand from her shoulder without missing a step.

"All right, I'll humor you for a minute. Just s'posing that I decide to believe you about this friend of yours," the man spoke to her retreating back, "She hook or what?"

Nyamo stopped suddenly and glared over her shoulder at the hunched form that bumped into her back.

"No, she's not like that!"

Now it was the man's turn to take a step back and raise his hands in a harmless gesture.

"All right. All right then. Just askin'."

Briefly Nyamo closed her eyes and sifted a hand back through her hair.

"I'm just so tired…"

The man straightened and tipped his head back to look down the bridge of his nose at the woman. He never believed anyone that he encountered in or around the neighborhood that he lived in, but he almost couldn't help but believe her.

"Listen…If you think that your friend would have come around here, then I know she's into something. Hardly a woman in these parts makes a nine-to-five living if ya know what I mean."

Nyamo lifted her head and looked at the man. It was true that Yukari had lost her job. She hadn't thought about what she might be doing to make up for the lost funds, mostly because she didn't even want to let her mind venture there.

"She just….got into a little trouble along the way."

"You mean she got into drugs."

"……Yeah. Deep."

The man nodded his head in immediate understanding. He had both heard of and been witness to many stories that had to do with people and their habits and addictions. The stories always varied and there were no two exactly alike, and yet they were always the same. Many carried the same beginnings, shared the same middle, and ended the same way, usually in tragedy.

"I see then. So then you got it into your head that you would just go out there into that great big city, find your friend, and bring her back, right?"

"You're not the first person to tell me that I'm crazy for trying. It just didn't make sense to me. Yukari was a little bit weird, but she was fine and happy! She had no reason to…get involved with the things that she did."

Despite the somber situation, the man tucked his hands into his back pockets and managed a soft, humorless chuckle.

"I can't say that I know your friend, but lemme tell ya….If everything had been fine and happy in her life, then you wouldn't be out here lookin' for her right now."

Nyamo let her gaze fall to the sidewalk. What the man said was true, and now she had to admit it to herself. There had been something about Yukari that she had missed. Something that she had never seen because she had never assumed anything but blissful, dumb, happiness from her friend. When she made no reply, the man shuffled closer and lowered his voice.

"Look…If your friend is in as deep as you say, you're not gonna get her back that easy. Drugs aren't just drugs to some people. They're a business and a way of life. You can get a person off drugs about as easily as you can change the hand that they write with. It can be done, but dammit if it ain't like trying to separate a zebra from its stripes."

At that moment Nyamo wanted nothing more than to burst out in a fit of hysterical sobs. She fought the sting that she could feel in the corners of her eyes and turned her head away. She had been naïve, foolishly setting herself on a wild goose chase that could have only ended in failure. Others had been right to be dubious of her efforts, but still she had tried. All she had wanted was to have Yukari back. She would have given anything for the chance to pay for one more steak dinner, to engage in one more trivial argument, to play one more video game, to get into one more fight over the past, only with Yukari.

"I don't—I mean….W-what else can I do? I'm only one person and the cops aren't doing shit!"

"In a case like this there's not much that you can do. People learn right and wrong. Society tries to teach 'em, but in the end they have to follow their own ways. Whoever else told you to let it go, you shoulda listened to 'em because you're just gonna get hurt yourself. If it was meant to happen, then your friend will show up. Otherwise…."

That was the last thing that Nyamo wanted to hear. Yukari hadn't shown up for months, and it wasn't plausible that just one random day down the road she would show up on her door step again, looking like Hell's welcome mat.

With a disheartened sigh the man stepped away and walked back to the steps of the building from which he had come.

"Come on. This is no place for a woman like you to be. I'll call you a cab…."

Nyamo was left there alone in the yellow circle of the street lamp. She bowed her head and clutched tightly in her fingers the picture of Yukari and herself. Why didn't anyone else care as much as she did? As much as she hated herself for it, the old man's words began to sink into her thoughts. There wasn't anything he had said that she hadn't known before, but it was different to hear it from a voice that wasn't the one in her mind.

"Yukari…"

She didn't want to cry, but the more she fought the tears, the easier they came, softly so. No sobbing, no trembling, no sound. It seemed as though she cried for the sake of a delayed reaction, as though she should have cried the first night that Yukari hadn't come back.

For nearly twenty minutes she stood there on the corner of that dead intersection before a pair of head lights approached from around the corner. It was a taxi cab. The driver of the taxi stopped the car by the curb in front of her and rolled down his window.

"You the one call for a cab?"

Nyamo didn't reply. She simply approached the back door of the cab and climbed inside. There she slumped against the seat cushion and took out the picture of Yukari and herself, staring at it long and hard. Yukari's goofy, carefree smile, that obnoxious peace sign, and herself standing less obtrusively beside her. That one snap shot had the uncanny ability to embody their entire relationship. From the very first moment that she had met Yukari, she had known that there was something different about her. Yukari had always been so eccentric, complex, and unpredictable that no interaction with her was ever dull. There would never be anyone like her, and those who had taken her at face value had been missing out on a lot. There was more to Yukari than self-centered irresponsibility. Unfortunately she had never gotten to figure out what exactly it was.

"_Until we meet again…"_

Slowly, religiously, she folded the picture closed and slipped it back into her pocket. After giving the cab driver her address, she leaned back in her seat and pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the world pass by with painful indifference.

* * *

**Note:** R and R if you feel like it. Just keep in mind that I was under the influence of Strattera at the time that I wrote this chapter. :) 


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

To have become what nothing is, and succumbed to an infinite void. A perfect nothingness where numb was everything and sensation was illegitimate. Yukari had no concept of anything as she hung there in the darkness, yet somehow it seemed that her subconscious existed on a level that was minute and basic enough for her to realize that death was heavy. Death carried an actual weight that pressed down upon her chest andmade her feel as though her head was about to explode.

"_I…..I can't breathe…"_

The water. It was conceivable that she was in the process of drowning. The pressure in her head could have been depth pressure, and her chest was probably tight because her lungs had filled with water. It didn't hurt, and yet that only made it more terrifying. Her body was beginning to shut down.

She could imagine how it must have looked, that little grey car sitting silently at the bottom of the bay with two bodies drifting weightlessly within it, held in only by their seat belts. That was where she would die. Twenty five years worth of memories and life experiences, all leading to the bottom of Tokyo Bay.

But no. She didn't want to be down there. She didn't want to die all alone, surrounded by nothing but cold water and sea-dwelling scavengers that would pick at her body like a limited-time café.

In one immaculate surge of energy she forced herself back up from that vacuous cavity, that frightening numbness that rubbed its back along the edges of her mind. The muscles of her face tensed, her fingers twitched, and much to her surprise when she instinctively gasped with need for air, her lungs were grudgingly rewarded with the ventilating necessity.

The presence of what felt very much like air tempted her to believe that she had been killed after all. With boundless care she defied her own disbelief and gathered enough control of her facial muscles to crack her eyes open. The world that met her was blurry and broken, filled with shards and pieces and scraps, all laying haphazardly beneath a vast stretch of slate grey sky.

She squinted, closed her eyes, then tried again to open them. Her chest still felt so tight, the same as her head still felt under an immense amount of pressure. It was more than disorienting when she managed to creep her gaze upward and found her hands laying limp against the surface above her. Her first notion was to believe that she had somehow crossed into another dimension where gravity was reversed. Up had become down, just as she had felt mere milliseconds after the car had crashed into the guard rail. Yet she most definitely was not under water.

She tried taking another breath and discovered that the tightness in her chest was a physical object strapped against it. Her seat belt. The vinyl strap dug into the bare skin of her shoulder and constricted across the expanse of her chest, pressing in via the weight of her own body. She had never felt so heavy before, and no seat belt that she had ever worn had felt so tight. There had to have been another logical explanation other than figuring that she had doubled in size.

Gravity was pulling her into the seat belt. She was hanging upside down. That explained the mounting pressure in her head and neck, as well the expanse of grey street that she had previously perceived to be the sky.

Her arm felt like a bar of lead when she tried to lift her hand to the latch of her seatbelt. She managed to find the button and press the pad of her thumb against it, but instead of the seat belt simply disconnecting as it would normally do, the entire locking mechanism cracked open and she landed painfully against the roof of the car that had now become the ground.

The interior space of the car had crunched and compacted, making it difficult to move in any direction. There was broken glass everywhere and even though she felt no immediate pain, she knew that her body was in critical condition and that it would be unwise to make any sudden motions. Neither Kano nor the dealer were anywhere in her line of vision, though vaguely she recollected the sound of Kano screaming, followed shortly by the percussion of shattering glass. To be thrown from a vehicle at the speed she had been driving could have only resulted in death.

She began to shift herself about in the enclosed space, trying to worm her way towards the only visible exit that she could see. The window beside her had been reduced to an opening half its original size, but it would have to do. She had to twist herself onto her stomach and wrench her legs from under the dash board before she could move at all. As she reached her arms out of the window, suddenly she picked up on the sound of voices coming from somewhere on the other side of the wreckage.

"I can make it up! I swear it's not what you think!"

"Isn't it now? I give you one simple little task…And this is what happens."

"Look! You know I wasn't driving! You know me better!"

"I know that you're a spineless little runt who can't face consequences."

"I said I could make it up! I was just on my way to see you when-"

"Hey, boss! Gotta another live one here."

Yukari's sight was suddenly filled with the tip of a dark leather boot. The leather was worn and cracked and there was something stuck to the underside of the sole, probably gum. Two sweaty hands reached down and hooked their fingers under her arm pits. She screamed as her body was pried from the wreckage and dragged forward along the ground. In the next moment she found herself hauled up, two arms circled underneath hers to keep her from collapsing. Try as she might to get her footing on the ground, any pressure that she applied to her legs sent a jolt of excruciating pain straight up her spine to crash into the back of her head.

Looking up in front of her she saw what was left of Kano's car. The vehicle was crumpled up like a ball of paper with steam writhing up from the street beneath its hood. The right front tire was completely shredded and pieces of the car could be seen all up and down the bridge. If she hadn't have been in the accident herself, she wouldn't have believed that anyone could have survived such a horrific collision.

On the other side of the wreckage, the dealer was crouched pathetically on the ground. One of his legs was obviously broken and the entire left side of his body looked as though it had been skinned of the first few layers of flesh. He was bloody, his clothes were torn, and he looked every bit a person who was now living on borrowed time. With a painful cant of her head, she managed the smallest glimpse to the man who currently held her up. The man was a foreigner of stocky build, muscular but with soft facial features. He was dressed in dark blue suit, silk shirt, and neck tie. His arms felt bulky as they circled under her own.

Standing in front of the dealer was another man. The man was clad in dark pants, a grey shirt, and a casual evening coat with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His frame was large and thick with muscle, from his broad shoulders all the way down to the firmness of his concealed calves. He was not hulking, but the V shape of his torso was defined with a sort of aesthetic appeal. His black hair was cropped and smoothed back to perfection and the fine goatee around his mouth was meticulously trimmed. He radiated with the sense of something expensive and also very insidious. It could have only been money. Money, and the Walther P99 gripped in his right hand.

The man would turn his head sharply to look at Yukari as she was brought to more or less a standing position. His lips turned up in a sardonic grin.

"Well, Yukari is it?…We meet again," he drawled smoothly and shifted his attention away from the dealer. Glass shards crunched beneath his boots as he made his way over to Yukari, stopping mere inches before her.

"You should thank me. If not for my quick reflexes and good aim, you would be at the bottom of Tokyo Bay right now." The shot had been taken completely in the dark, but it had ended up being a lucky one. The bullet had seared the right front tire of the car and caused the vehicle to spin out of control, finally to land in its totaled state upside down.

"W-….What? I don't know you…" Yukari's voice had been reduced to a cracking whisper, an after effect of having sustained mass trauma to her body. Odd as it was, she wasn't so much concerned that Yukio had somehow saved her life. She had been ready to die after all.

"You mean you don't remember?" Yukio smirked and looked over his shoulder at the dealer who did his best to shift further away from the wreckage. "Shame on you. What have you been doing to this girl anyway?"

There was nothing kind or sympathetic in the man's voice. Yukari frowned and balled her fingers against the palms of her hands. Though she ran her eyes over his face she could pick up on nothing familiar about him. Not being able to remember things was nothing new to her, but it was different when one of those things that she didn't recall came back and gloated about it.

From his place on the ground, the dealer looked back and forth between Yukio and Yukari. If his body hadn't been in such poor condition then he would have taken the opportunity to make a run for his life. Since he couldn't do that, the next best thing that he could do was keep as much of Yukio's attention off of himself as he could.

"You can have her, Yukio! That bitch is fuckin' crazy!"

"Be that as it may, we were never properly introduced," Yukio faced the woman again and propped a hand to his waist. "My name is Yukio, and that little ass-wipe on the ground behind me is one of my employees. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you don't remember me. So many faces, yeah?"

The implication was blunt and biting. Had Yukari been in better standing then she would have lunged at the man, but what would she have been able to say? It was only true. There was a considerable number of nameless faces that drifted about in her mind. For a lot of them she didn't know whether they were real or not. Strange that Yukio should have been one of those faces, yet his image brought forth no specific memory. It hardly mattered to her anyway. She no longer had a clear perception of her own self worth and it only seemed fitting that someone like her should have ended up like this.

Yukio brought a hand to her face and wiped away some of the blood that had seeped from the gash in her forehead.

"You'll have to forgive me. I was just so worried one day when my employee failed to show up with his dues."

The dealer perked up in alarm and tried to scoot up to his feet as though he would have been able to defend himself better in a standing position.

"Hey! I told you that-"

The wad of muscle at the back of Yukio's shoulder bunched when he held up a hand and silenced the protest. Whatever excuse the dealer might have had was irrelevant by now because it was already clear what had been going on. He kept his attention on Yukari, never catching the shorter man's frown.

"Naturally I became worried, so I searched and I searched, and now I've finally found him with the very same whore that he was using to try and worm his way from under my thumb."

"Save it for someone who cares, twinky," Yukari replied defiantly. She met Yukio's gaze with a certain boredom that told she had not a care left in the world. Her words were slurred and her vision was fading, likely due to the amount of blood that she had lost. She had nothing left, and she had nothing to look forward to. What else to do but make one last stand as the smart-mouthed Yukari she had once been?

"Strong words for such a worthless slut!" Yukio growled and in one powerful swipe he struck the insolent woman across the side of her face.

Yukari cried out as her head snapped to the side, her knees buckling under the brute force of the impact. The blow was enough to make her come close to passing out. She realized that she had been taken from the jaws of death only to be faced with something far worse. Subjugation. Her body was broken and her spirit was shattered, and by a cruel twist of fate she was still alive to acknowledge it.

The man who held Yukari suddenly glanced at something over Yukio's shoulder and shifted anxiously.

"Yukio, I think we should get outta here."

"Not before I teach this bitch a lesson! No one talks to me that way!" Yukio lifted his gun and pointed it straight between Yukari's eyes. Many a previous person had met the end of their lives at the business end of that gun. What would be one more? Especially if it was some drug addict who wouldn't be missed by anyone.

Yukari barely had enough energy left to lift her head and look down the barrel of the weapon without a trace of visible fear, either because of apathy or ignorance.

"Fuckin'…..pansy…" she mumbled before finally letting her head drop to her chest.

Yukio was just about to compress the trigger of the handgun when his assistant suddenly shouted and pointed at something behind him.

"Look out!"

In the next instant Yukio found himself falling, the result of something hard colliding with the back of his neck. The ground came up to meet him, and for a brief moment the world faded from around him. The last thing he registered was the sound of his gun clattering against the ground.

* * *

**Note:** Forgive me. :) This is another chapter that I had to cut in half.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I hate having to divide up long chapters because then I get 'chapters' that don't really move the story anywhere. It really interrupts the flow of things. This is actually the second half of Chapter 15, but whatever. Here it be!

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Only twenty minutes earlier in the evening, settled in the back of the taxi cab beside a tire iron, first aid kit, and a crow bar, Nyamo had sighed and hugged her arms close around herself. Her gaze had shifted from watching the buildings outside to honing in on her own reflection in the window. Every time the cab passed by a street light she would watch the yellow illumination pass through the glass, bringing the left portion of her face into clear view before fading again and taking the image of her countenance with it. Over and over, appearing and fading, focusing and contorting.

She couldn't shake the notion that she was making a mistake by allowing herself to give in now, despite the fact that she had been searching on and off for months. It wasn't as though she could spend the rest of her life searching, nor could she put everything else in her life on hold until Yukari came back. Somehow she had to tuck Yukari's image into a back drawer of her mind and move on.

The cab driver adjusted his rear view mirror and glanced at the woman in the back seat. Aside from telling him where to go, she hadn't spoken or moved an inch since she had gotten in the cab.

"You ok? You look like someone just ran over your puppy or somethin'," he spoke up, almost hesitantly as he lifted his head to better look at his passenger. In the few months that he had been a cab driver he had given rides to some very interesting, and sometimes questionable people. Sometimes it was better to not ask questions and let peoples' business be their own, but the woman didn't look dangerous and he couldn't help his curiosity.

"I'm fine," Nyamo replied softly without turning her gaze from the window. The mention of a puppy made her think of large, brown eyes. Brown eyes, brown hair, an annoying level of wasteful energy….

Suddenly she frowned and shook her head. Why should she have been so stuck on finding Yukari anyway? Instead of thinking about what she would be missing, she tried to think about what she wouldn't be missing. To think about Yukari's undesirable characteristics would possibly make the separation seem more necessary. Yukari was selfish, immature, obnoxious, irresponsible, careless…

The method wasn't helping and Nyamo felt the tears well up in her eyes once more. For every one of Yukari's faults, it seemed that there was an instance to contradict it. Yukari wasn't completely selfish, she had been mature enough to get through college, and she had been responsible enough to maintain her teaching position for a good few years. Yet somehow it had all fallen apart. It had never seemed to fit right in the first place. Of all the things that Nyamo had pictured Yukari doing with her life, becoming a teacher hadn't been one of them.

Indeed Yukari had not changed since high school. She had always been exactly who she was, and it was that same rambunctious person who had caught Nyamo's interest in the first place.

* * *

_It was a Friday afternoon and the entire high school was buzzing with gossip. Rumors flew back and forth, each one carrying their own story about the vice principal and the student who had attacked him. No one had witnessed the actual event, and those who had been nearby at the time knew only what they had heard and seen afterwards. There had been shouting, the sound of splashing water, buckets clattering against the floor of the hallway, and then the soaked vice principal dragging the student down to the detention hall. _

_Minamo Kurosawa lifted her book satchel onto her desk and slipped her graded homework inside of it. She was only two weeks into her first year of high school and already she had gained the reputation as a well mannered student and a valuable athlete. Her skills were not so renowned in the classroom but still she was passing and that's what mattered._

_She stood up from her desk and absently smoothed down the front of her skirt. The school's uniform consisted of a white, sailor-like top, navy blue tie, and a black skirt that reached to the knees. She was required like all the other girls in the school to wear the uniform during class hours, though on weekends she was strictly a 'pants' kind of girl. Her parents had never minded this tom-boyish aspect of her and had even let her keep her hair short. It was important to them that their daughter grow up feeling comfortable with who she was, and if short hair and pants was what she preferred, then it was what they would allow._

"_Minamo!"_

_Upon hearing her name, Minamo looked up and turned toward the entrance of the classroom. Two girls came trotting inside, one after the other. The first one was tall and had curly, shoulder length hair and glasses. The other one was Minamo's height and was little more round in the middle with black hair and curiously blue eyes. Their names were Ayame and Sumi and Minamo knew them through the swim team as well as her homeroom class period. _

_Ayame came to a stop in front of Minamo and placed her hands excitedly to her desk._

"_You've heard, right?" the tall girl smiled a certain gossipy smile the likes of which no boy could have ever imitated. While boys had their fists, girls had their rumors, and if anyone in the school who so much as cheated on their homework or didn't toss their garbage into the proper receptacle, Ayame was always the first to sniff out the culprit and expose their faults to the rest of the world._

_Minamo wasn't much interested in rumors or gossip. She didn't like to be judgmental and certainly didn't need to talk bad about someone else to make herself feel better. Nonetheless, she humored her friend and offered a small, quirking grin._

"_A little. About the vice principal?"_

"_Yeah! Sumi has a friend who was there when it happened!"_

"_Shoichi was coming from the bathroom and he saw Mr. Tanaka dragging the girl by the arm," Sumi piped up and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Said that he was soaking wet!"_

"_It was a girl?" Minamo furrowed her brows slightly. That contradicted what she had overheard another group of students talking about only minutes ago._

"_Can you believe it? I heard she was crazy or something. Like she had a mental break down and threw the buckets at Mr. Tanaka when he walked by," Ayame smirked and used her index finger to slide her glasses up the bridge of her nose in knowing manner. _

"_I was talking to Reiko who has homeroom with her. She said that she's totally weird! She's late every day, sleeps during class, and when the teacher calls on her she gives these dumb-ass excuses like how he's insulting her intelligence or something," said Sumi whose elated grin had transformed into a disgusted sneer._

_Minamo frowned and slid her book bag from the surface of her desk to hold at her side._

"_If she had a mental break down then why would Mr. Tanaka take her to the detention hall instead of the clinic?" she asked matter-of-factly._

"_Who cares? Everyone's saying that she's probably going to get expelled anyway. I'm all for it. I don't know how she got into this school in the first place but we don't need students like her making us look bad," Ayame replied and straightened from her hunched position over the desk. "Anyways…Sumi and I were gonna go down to the track to watch the try-outs for the boys' baseball team. Wanna go?"_

"_I think I'll pass. I want to get home early to get a start on my homework so I won't have to worry about it later," Minamo grinned apologetically, though she didn't feel sorry at all for passing up the opportunity. She had more important things to do than watch a bunch of sweaty boys run back and forth. _

"_That's right, Ayame. We forgot that we're dealing with Little Miss I-Already-Have-A-Boyfriend," Sumi quipped playfully._

"_Well, ya know…" Minamo only grinned and rubbed the back of her neck, doing her best to fight the blush that she could feel creeping up into her cheeks._

"_Oh leave her alone. That's just more eye candy for us," Ayame waved to Minamo before turning to exit the room. Sumi also waved as she followed the taller girl, both soon disappearing out into the hall. _

_Minamo stood there for a moment and turned to look out of the windows that made up the left wall of the classroom. She hadn't lied about wanting to get home early that evening. She had a lot of homework to do and didn't want it weighing over her shoulders for the entire weekend. At the back of the classroom she could hear two boys talking to each other._

"_Mr. Tanaka looked pissed."_

"_I would be too if someone threw water on me."_

"_Water? I heard it was bleach."_

"_Ha! Was it really bleach?"_

"_Maybe ammonia. Who knows? They said the girl was really off-the-wall."_

_Minamo looked at the boys, then turned and made her way from the classroom. The story out in the hall way told the same thing. Students were talking, and the majority of their conversations were centered around the incident that had happened earlier that day._

"_Someone said that she planned it!"_

"_Mr. Tanaka had it coming."_

"_Raving lunatic!"_

"_What's her name?"_

"_I never liked her."_

"_Did you know her?"_

"_I heard that she was also the one who-"_

"_Well I heard that-"_

"_The vice principal is such a-"_

"_Did she really-"_

"_That's what they said."_

_The more bits and pieces that she overheard, the less people seemed to be saying. Everyone always heard something or they had a friend of a friend who was there. Such was the way in which gossip worked, people discussing rumors as though they were fact and no one ever confronting the person who the rumors were about. She wondered if this was on purpose. If someone simply approached the girl who had supposedly attacked Mr. Tanaka, then the matter would be cleared up and there would be nothing to make up stories over. But without rumors, what would students talk about?_

_When she approached the stair well she took the steps up to the next level. She should have taken the stairs down because of course that's how she would have exited the building and gone home. Instead she was on her way to the detention hall. She didn't know exactly why. She was never one to get involved in other peoples' business, but at the same time her curiosity had been piqued. She at least wanted to get a look at this 'raving lunatic' that had become the target for such negative attention from the entire school._

_The detention hall was located on the same floor as the administration offices. It was a separate classroom with two specific purposes in mind: isolation and punishment. Minamo carefully pushed open the double doors that lead from the stair well into the main hallway of the top floor. Peering out into the hallway she saw a group of three girls walking in the other direction. The girls were students who looked to be her own age._

"_What did I tell you?"_

"_She's so stupid!"_

"_I can't believe we let her hang out with us."_

"_It was only one time."_

"_Twice, remember?"_

_Minamo walked out into the hallway and stood off to the side to let the girls pass. One of them, another girl from her homeroom class, acknowledged her with a brief nod while the other two didn't offer her so much as a side glance._

_Continuing quietly down the hall, Minamo was careful to look out for any teachers who might have been monitoring the floor. No one was allowed to visit students who were being held in detention, though the fact that the other three girls had managed to come and go without problem gave her a little hope that maybe the teacher on duty had taken a break. She gripped the handle of her book bag tightly, coming to the door of the small classroom. _

_The door was open so she only needed to lean around the corner to see inside. The room itself was bland and suffocating. There were no windows and the walls were so white under the sterilizing light that it was almost hard to look at them. Ten desks were lined up five by five in the center of the room, and the chalkboard on the far wall had a series of rules scribbled across it. _

_Sitting in the desk that was farthest from the door was a girl. The girl had positioned herself sideways in the seat and had brought her knees up to her chest, her back facing the entrance of the room. Her wavy brown hair was tied back in a pony tail with a blue ribbon that came standard-issue with the girls' uniform, and it looked like the top of her uniform was wet. She had her arms hugged around her legs and currently rested her chin to the top of her knees. _

_So far, at least, the girl didn't seem in the least bit crazy or hostile. She wasn't rocking back and forth or mumbling to herself as one might have expected from a 'lunatic'. Minamo stepped into the room and made sure that her footsteps were loud enough to be heard._

"_Hey, are you all right?" she inquired hesitantly, feeling no small amount of awkwardness as she made her way around to the girl's desk._

_The girl suddenly dropped her feet from the edge of her chair and whirled up into a standing position to face the unexpected visitor. Bright brown eyes met with dark blue and Minamo saw that girl was frowning defensively, her hands balled tightly at her sides._

"_Just what is that supposed to mean? I'm fine!" the girl snapped back. She thought the question to be absolutely ridiculous. How would anyone have felt to have suddenly gained such a condemning reputation their second week into high school? And yet she could brush the incident off as long as no one came feeling sorry for her, which was exactly what she gathered that this dark-haired girl had come to do. _

"_Calm down," Minamo replied and lifted her hand to show that she hadn't come to verbally attack her as the previous three girls had probably done. The girl was only a little shorter than herself, yet it was obvious that the girl's fiery temper was more than enough to make up for what height she lacked. Minamo hoped that she hadn't made a mistake by indulging her curiosity and coming to see her. She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "Those girls, I just thought that-"_

"_Yeah, well you thought wrong!" the shorter girl interjected and flopped back down into her seat. Whatever anyone had been thinking, it was wrong. They were always wrong. She folded her arms on the surface on the desk and buried her face into them as though to signal that the meeting was over. _

"_I see."_

_Minamo could very well see. She could see what the others had been talking about. The girl was a spitfire for sure, easily riled and overly defensive. That didn't make her crazy though. With the given circumstances, what else could have been expected? Even mild-mannered Minamo admitted to herself if she had been in the girl's situation, she wouldn't have been on her best behavior. _

_The girl said nothing more, and Minamo ended up standing there for a minute trying to think of what else to say. Perhaps there was nothing more to say at all. The girl didn't want to talk and probably wanted nothing more to do with any of the students in the school ever again. Inwardly she frowned at herself. She didn't want to be like all those other students who based their behaviors towards others on mere assumptions. Unless she took a step beyond that, she would never know anything more about this girl. And there had to be something beyond that attitude. _

"_Well, um…" she cleared her throat and straightened a little. "My name's Minamo. Wanna go get something to eat?"_

_She was met with no reply. The silence in the room became so thick that all sound from the outside seemed to become absorbed into it. Minamo shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again before the girl finally lifted her head and looked up at her suspiciously._

"_Right now?"_

"_No, I meant later. Maybe- I dunno- When you get out of here?"_

"_And what about what happened today?" The girl's eyes narrowed and she sat back in her seat. She had already lost her group of friends because of her encounter with the vice principal and wouldn't allow herself to be persuaded so easily into another shallow friendship. _

"_I don't even know what happened today," Minamo replied with a shrug. _

_The girl twisted in her seat and crossed one knee over the other, propping one elbow to the back of her seat and the other to the top of her desk. Her frown only deepened into one more thoughtful._

"_I didn't attack him. I was sent out in the hall for sleeping in class. Teacher made me hold water buckets, so I held 'em, and fell asleep. Then Mr. Tanaka came by and tapped me on the shoulder. Scared the crap outta me, and…." She motioned to the soaked condition of her skirt and top._

"_You fell asleep standing up and holding buckets of water?" Minamo arched one slender brow. _

"_Anything is possible if you put your mind to it," the girl stood up with a haughty smirk and thrust her hand out. "My name's Yukari. You'll take me out then."_

"_Nice to meet you," Minamo took Yukari's hand in her own and gave it a good shake. She then stepped back and checked the time on her watch. "You shouldn't be here for more than half an hour. Meet me at the library and then we'll go."_

"_Sure thing."_

_Yukari smiled and waited for Minamo to leave the room. She then folded her arms and smirked dubiously. _

"_Right. We'll see how long this lasts." It would have been nice to have a trust worthy friend who she could count on for once. A friend who wouldn't talk about her behind her back or start ignoring her once they found out what she was really like. She knew that it was too much to hope for though. She could behave herself for a while, and as long as she expected the inevitable outcome, it wouldn't be so bad when Minamo turned her back like all the rest. _

_Minamo left the detention hall feeling a million times better about herself. Yukari had wanted someone to talk with after all. Either that or she just wanted a free meal. It didn't matter much to Minamo. She just wanted to help someone, and if she had been in Yukari's position then she would have given anything to have at least one person on her side. _

_The first meal that they had shared would later be followed by another during the weekend, and then a movie. By the following week they had learned a lot of each others' back rounds, which schools they had come from, and what they thought of the high school they had gotten into. It wasn't long before Minamo's friends found out that she was hanging out with Yukari, and at first they threatened her with ostracism. The threat was not to last though because they trusted Minamo as a person and trusted her judgment. It was only because of Minamo that they tolerated Yukari's presence at the very least. Yukari never seemed to care. She expected nothing less of them and expected the same from Minamo, but of course Minamo had never lived up to that expectation, and she never would._

* * *

**Note:** Um….Gonna have to divide this chapter up into thirds. Stay tuned for Chapter 15 3/3. (Chapter 17) 


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Can't really explain. I'll probably edit this chapter later. Maybe.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

Nyamo was brought from her reverie by a subtle momentum pushing her forward. The cab was stopping, but when she looked out of the window she saw that they weren't at a stop sign or a red light. The driver threw up his hands and cursed softly.

"Perfect! Damn sunnuva- " He put the car into reverse, then stretched his arm behind the back of the passenger seat to look behind him.

"What's wrong?" Nyamo straightened up and kept her arms folded loosely around herself. She didn't really care what the matter was as long as it didn't get in the way of her getting home to a hot shower and soft bed.

"We have to take the long way around," the driver replied sullenly. He reversed the cab just enough so that he could straighten back out and take a left hand turn at the intersection they were at instead of going straight.

As the cab turned, Nyamo was able to look out the window and see what was going on. Up ahead, the road merged onto a bridge, and on the bridge there were two cars. One car was an exotic white coupe, and the other car had been reduced to a crumpled heap against the bridge's guard rail. Amongst the car parts that were scattered all over the road she could make out the form of what looked to be the remains of a person. It was a man, his mangled body lying in two different sections in a thick smear of blood, connected only by the tangle of his innards. Yet another sight that Nyamo would remember for the rest of her life.

There were other people that she could see at the crash site. One man, a foreigner, was holding up an obviously wounded woman and another black-haired man was standing in front of her. There was a third man laying several yards beyond them, most likely another crash victim judging by the bloodied condition of his body.

In the few seconds that it took the cab to make that left hand turn, Nyamo processed all of this information as fleetingly as a person would read a written word of their native language. She could only assume that the two standing men had arrived in the white car to assist the survivors of the accident. It wasn't until out of curiosity that she leaned up against the window to get a better look and was able to make out the details of what she was seeing, primarily the fact that the black haired man was holding a gun.

Confronting a crash victim with a firearm? Instantaneously she directed her attention to the woman. Frail, bloody, incontrovertibly helpless, not extremely short or tall, with tangled, wavy brown hair. If she hadn't known any better then would have been tempted to compare the woman's general features with Yukari's. She frowned and squinted her eyes a little more.

Her scrutiny of the woman wasn't complete before the cab completed the turn and she had to twist fully around in her seat to keep her eyes upon her. It was impossible, inconceivable to think that the woman could have been someone more than a nameless victim of some unfortunate car accident. The woman was anonymous to Nyamo. She was faceless and inconsequential. As far as Nyamo knew, the woman had no past or future. She existed simply as she was: an ill-fated survivor of a car wreck, soon to be a victim of another kind. Whatever events had lead up to the woman's predicament were unknown, and though Nyamo did feel sorry for her, it wouldn't have been sensible to try and save her. What would it have been for? The woman could have been anyone— until she lifted her head and Nyamo saw the specific, bloody features of her face.

Nyamo's eyes narrowed into slits, and then went suddenly wide. The impulsive explosion of her heart beat made her body feel an initial wave of weakness before a surge of adrenaline threaded its way through the nerve endings in her brain. The adrenaline nullified her thought process and prevented her from thinking at all. Shock, fear, and anger all brewed a potent combination in the center of her chest and she had no idea which of them to feel first. Blood raced, proteins bunched, breathing deepened, and all senses heightened as her body reacted to the realization that the woman she was seeing, the injured woman being held and confronted at gun point, was no stranger. She was someone very important to Nyamo. She was the end target, a best friend, companion, and past lover. Nyamo knew her favorite things, her hobbies, her habits, her preferences, and styles. She knew where the woman had gone to high school and to college and where she had worked up until several months ago. Indeed Nyamo knew her. The woman was Yukari, there was no doubt.

The 'common sense' factor of Nyamo's mind had been shut off when she whirled around in her seat and grabbed up the crow bar that had been laying beside her. All of those months of aimless searching, all of those sleepless nights filled with worry and uncertainty, not knowing where Yukari was or if she was safe, had all come to an end.

"Stop the cab!"

The driver frowned in his rear view mirror and had hardly slammed on the brakes before Nyamo opened the door and bailed out. She hit the ground hard, rolled once, and instantly got back to her feet, running full speed in the opposite direction towards the bridge. It didn't matter to her that she was one woman with a crow bar against a couple of men with guns. It wouldn't have mattered if there had been five men, or even ten. The only thing that registered with her was that she had found Yukari, and Yukari was in trouble.

Up ahead she could see them, the two men with her friend in between. Any further analysis of the situation was irrelevant. She didn't know what had caused the accident, who the men were, or why they were threatening Yukari. She didn't know, and it didn't make one bit of difference, though it couldn't be helped that the men knew not what they did. Nyamo allowed them that slight benefit of the doubt. It was evident that the men didn't know Yukari because if they had known her then they would have known that looming over her shoulder was a fiercely protective guardian and best friend, Nyamo. If they had known Yukari then they would have known Nyamo, and if they had known Nyamo then they would have known how much of a severe mistake it was to invoke her anger, and Nyamo was beyond angry.

Her animosity only amplified when she watched the black haired man draw his hand back and strike Yukari across the face. In that precise moment she felt something snap in the forefront of her mind. A limitation of her self control had been broken and she became swept up in a sudden, violent fury. If she had been able to focus on it then it would have scared her to no end, that passionate wrath that made her truly want to kill both of those men. Not simply to kill them, but to make them suffer slow, pre-meditated deaths. Murder. She had never understood it, how a person could just take another human life, and she had never wanted to kill anything. Not until then. The calm, rational side of herself that had been the perfect role model for all high school girls had vanished and was replaced with another, more vicious identity. There was no reason for anyone to ever strike Yukari. No matter how annoying she could be or strange she could act, anyone who laid a hand on her was in need of some serious adjusting.

By the time the one of the men noticed her approach, it was already too late. With a vengeful yell she gripped the crow bar tightly in both hands, raised it past her shoulder, and brought it down upon the back of Yukari's would-be assailant. The solid bar sounded dull and loud as it slammed into the man's muscled frame, possibly breaking his shoulder bone. The man grunted and fell forward, his fingers losing their grip on his gun.

The foreigner who had been holding Yukari would suddenly let go of her and draw his own gun from under his coat. Unable to support the weight of her own damaged body, Yukari slumped to the ground and curled up on her side. Pain burst hot white behind her eyes and she did her best to hug her arms around herself. Some omnipotent being must have decided that death was too good for her. All she had wanted was comfort. No more pain or confusion, and yet she continued to be denied the luxury of peace of mind. Her existence was being drawn out to nothing less than an agonizing extent. No matter which way she tried to settle her weight, the pain was still there, wrenching her body and mind from the inside out.

The foreigner aimed his gun at Nyamo. She was in close proximity and shooting her would be no problem. At least it wouldn't have been a problem if only he had remembered to take the safety off his gun first. He squeezed the trigger once, and when the trigger didn't budge his gaze wavered from his target to his weapon to see what the matter was. It was a momentary distraction, but it was more than enough for Nyamo to take advantage of. She advanced on the man, then twisted her body around and kicked out to slam the side of her foot into his hand. The gun was sent flying from his grip and skittered across the pavement.

Surprised, the man watched the gun fly before directing his attention back to his attacker. He didn't need a firearm to take out an opponent anyway, especially not some female who was half his body mass. He balled his hands and sent one mallet-like fist thrusting towards Nyamo's jaw.

Nyamo glared and swiftly dodged the man's attack with a methodic side step. As he came forward with the momentum of his own punch, she redirected his attack by curling her arm around his and yanking upward, effectively hyper extending his elbow. The man yelled as she then whirled around and flung him to the ground. She didn't want to give him time to recover or even allow him the chance to run away before she was through with him. He had been an endangerment to Yukari and now he had to accept the consequences of his actions.

As soon as the man stumbled up to his feet she stepped to him and sent the heel of her palm smashing directly into his nose. Blood spurted from the fresh mess of splintered bone and cartilage, and again the man shouted and fell backwards, holding both of his hands to his face. To make sure that he would not be able to get up and retaliate, Nyamo brought the crow bar back into both of her hands and swung it down directly into the knee cap of his right leg. The man screamed and did his best to sit up and grab at the injured joint. Having removed his hands away from his broken nasal cavity, blood flowed freely from his nose, dripping from his chin to spatter against the pristine white of his shirt. Adding one shattered knee cap to his sprained elbow and busted nose he was now more concerned for his own safety than avenging his employer.

Several feet away from the brawl, Yukio gradually began to stir from his momentary black out. Groaning, he pressed his hands against the ground to push himself into a kneeling position.

"What…the Hell…" he snarled under his breath and winced. Someone had hit him, and whoever had done it might as well have signed their own death certificate. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up in an attempt to see the face of the interferer, but as soon as he lifted his head the hard edge of a shoe slammed into his jaw and sent him reeling onto his back.

Nyamo retracted her leg, the crow bar clanking loudly against the pavement when she dropped it. In place of the crow bar she instead picked up the gun that the black-haired man had dropped and stepped back to place herself directly between him and Yukari's incapacitated form. She had held a gun before but had never been put in a position where she had to aim one at another person.

"Stay back!" she yelled the warning like a drill sergeant giving an order to an incompetent soldier. She used both hands to hold the gun and kept her index finger tight against the trigger.

Aiming a loaded gun at someone was something that happened in the movies all the time. It was always played out to such a heroic extent that anyone else would think it to be an insignificant act. It was not insignificant, and it was not easy when there was a serious potential to kill. At any other time, Nyamo wouldn't have been able to threaten someone with a gun, but none of her past rules and morals applied anymore. These men, and particularly the man in her sights now, had threatened Yukari, and if killing them was what it would take to teach them the serious nature of their mistakes, then that's what she would do. All it would take was a simple flinch of her finger. One slight curling of her index digit, and the man's life would come to an end. It wasn't until she took a good look at his face that her malicious intent faltered just slightly.

"….Yukio," she mouthed the name but no actual sound emitted by way of it. The man's face was wrought from the dusty file of her memories from years and years of misuse and disregard. He looked different, and had she only been there to hear his name then the image she would have conjured would have been similar to him only on a vague scale. He was thicker, his skin was darker, he had facial hair, and quite simply, he was not who she remembered him to be. Should it have made sense that she would find Yukio tormenting her Yukari? She would have liked to believe that it was a coincidence. An awful, awful coincidence. Yet it made no difference. Almost as soon as she had hesitated, she reaffirmed her grip on her weapon and glowered darkly. Knowing that she now had the chance and the reason to end Yukio's life only made the potential task that much easier.

Yukio pressed his hand to his jaw and lifted his head to finally look upon his condemned attacker. He was more than surprised when he found himself looking up to a woman, but not just any random woman. It was _her._

"Kurosawa…" he growled and hiked himself back to his feet. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, seeing Minamo Kurosawa standing in front of Yukari like a grizzly bear defending its cub. Young Minamo had grown up it seemed. She had acquired some height and filled out nicely, but setting those physical features aside he could see that she was the same stubborn girl. After all these years she was still inhibiting his affairs. "I thought I told you to stay out of my business…"

"Yukari is _my_ business," Nyamo retorted. Neither she nor Yukio had to say anything outright to know that they had both gone right back to a precise moment that had happened over ten years ago. The incident had been pushed into the past where it belonged and had gotten lost amid the constant additions of new experiences and memories that happened every day. Yet now, with the two primary individuals coming face to face with each other, the past might as well have been a reference to something that had happened only five minutes ago.

"Your business, and your encumbrance," the large man sneered, looking straight into the barrel of his own gun that was currently pointed towards his throat. His disdainful look transformed into a sardonic grin. "Go ahead and shoot. It wasn't loaded anyway."

Nyamo was unable to resist the natural human tic that forced her to check the truth of the man's statement. Only for a moment did her eyes break from his gaze and cast down to the gun in her grip as she canted the weapon slightly. The mistake was the same one that the foreigner had made before her, and in turn it would prove to be equally vexing.

Yukio exploited her distraction and lunged his weight forward. He had always wondered when Minamo would seek retribution, though after tonight she would be just another name crossed out on his list. He swung his arm into Nyamo's with the intention of breaking the gun from her grasp.

Nyamo ducked a moment within time to keep her hold on the weapon, but her diversion would cost her the advantage of being able to think ahead. Before she could step away, Yukio clamped one hand around her throat and with the other grabbed her by the wrist of her gun-wielding arm.

"Your friend didn't remember me," he seethed the words sadistically from between with teeth, his hand clenching as tight as the muscles of his arm would allow. "But I'll bet you remember this."

Nyamo was caught in mid breath by the constriction of those thick fingers, particularly the thumb that shoved its way into the crevice of her throat. Her right wrist was trapped and her left hand went immediately to the aid of her neck. She did remember it. Suffocating, powerless, a dark period of her youth that had swallowed up the positive points of her identity and reduced her to a self-depreciating, confused individual. It had been so long ago, and even though she had long since confronted and overcome her insecurities and matured into a well-rounded young woman, no one could forget what it was like to feel that kind of fear.

_Fingers twisting into the sheets, her eyes sealed shut. Two hands around her throat kept her subdued to prevent the protest that she had yet to give. Her parents asked so little after all. It was normal and it had to happen sooner or later. Other girls did it. She wanted to feel right. Normal. She would show them. She was normal. Normal and healthy. She had boyfriend who loved her. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. Lips parted and words fell dead. Meaningless. He jerked, hadn't forced. Can't rape the willing. She loved him. She was in love. It was love. It had to be. She was normal._

Nyamo closed her eyes tight to shut out the look on Yukio's face, to create a physical barrier between her thoughts and his horrible, prying gaze. She knew what he was doing and it wouldn't work. She would not revert back to that awful part of herself. That insecure girl was dead. She had been dead for a long time and she would not allow Yukio to resurrect her.

She struggled to tear her hand away from his grasp, to free herself from the oppressive weight around her throat. Quickly she realized that there was no use in attempting to pry Yukio away. He was almost twice her size and several times stronger, though it made little difference. If he would not step back of his own accord, then she would have to force him back with a crippling application of pain.

Blues eyes flashed open, bright and alive with a new found definition of hate. In no way would she allow herself to be suffocated again. Not physically or psychologically. Blind of conscience she swung her knee up and nailed him directly between the legs. He was nothing to her anymore.

"Errrhh! Fuckin' bitch!" Yukio screamed and tore his hands away from the woman to grab his hands at the apex of his legs. Doubled over with pain, he stumbled back and took his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from yelling anymore. She had gotten a direct hit and he could feel the sting reverberating throughout his entire body. Perhaps Minamo had changed more than he had originally thought. He never would have expected such an immediate retaliation. Not from her.

The action had given Nyamo no small amount of pleasure to administer, and she equally enjoyed the sound of Yukio's scream and the sight of him folding with agony. He deserved every bit of the pain, but it wasn't enough for her. It wasn't enough just to make him scream and buckle. For all that he represented, all that he had done years ago, and what he had almost just done to Yukari, it didn't satisfy her just to see him hurt. The gun was still clenched tightly in her hand when she swung her arm up and smashed the butt of the weapon hard into his left temple. Something crunched, splintered, and the impact sent his head snapping to the side.

For what had just happened, Yukio was instantly aware of an exploding sensation on the inside of his head. It was worse than anything that he had ever experienced and his screams intensified tenfold as he fell back against the pavement. The pain was not so much on the outside of his head, but on the inside. Inside of his skull.

"_AAAAAGHHHH!"_ he screamed higher and brought his hands to the sides of his head. It didn't make sense that the blow should have hurt so much. Feeling his fingers along the left side of his face he came to a slight indention that was not supposed to be there. He applied a gentle pressure to the indention and was horrified when he felt shards of bone scraping against each other, but still that didn't account for the popping sensation in his head. It was only when he tried to look at his fingers to check for blood that he realized he was only seeing half of the world. He lifted one trembling finger to his left eye and was met with nothing. The gelatinous sphere had been knocked out. "_M-MY EYE!" _His voice cracked and he grabbed at his face, thrashing from side to side like an epileptic in the midst of a violent seizure.

Nyamo had seen the entire thing and watched it without a hint of remorse. Yukio's eye had exploded from its socket, tendons snapped like rotting strings and blood oozed from a new orifice down his cheek. She had never wanted to hurt anyone so badly. To have killed him at gun point would have been a waste. She wouldn't have been able to hear him scream, to see him writhe like a roach skewered on a scientist's needle. Stepping to him slowly, she stopped above him and waited until the intensity of his screams inevitably damaged his vocal chords. His voice had been scraped raw, reduced to a harsh whisper. She lifted her gun and aimed it at his head.

"I remember…Everything," she spoke softly and deliberately, making sure that amidst his pain he would register every word. "I don't know what you were doing here tonight, but you stay away from Yukari, and you stay away from me. If I catch scent of either you, one of your little pushers, or anyone else even remotely under your influence coming around us again, I swear to fuckin' god I'll find you and pick your other eye out one piece at a time."

Yukio had lost the ability to form intelligible words. He clawed at his face and wrenched his body until finally the blunt trauma to his head became too much for his brain to withstand. Gradually his motions became more and more half witted before his form went limp, his remaining eye falling shut.

Nyamo stood still for a moment and watched him. Only when she was sure that he would not be rousing any time soon, she expelled the breath she had been holding and dropped her arm heavily. She looked back and forth between him and the foreigner she had previously taken down. All of those aikido lessons had come in handy after all.

A movement in her peripheral vision suddenly caught her attention and she jerked her head to the side, instinctively aiming the gun as well.

The dealer froze in mid step and thrust both of his hands into the air as he caught Nyamo's gaze. He had been a witness to everything that had taken place and in no way did he want to get on this woman's bad side.

"I didn't do anything I swear! I'm not a- I mean I don't even know her! I didn't do anything! Nothing! I'm _nothing_!" he whimpered and sounded pitiful even to his own ears but he didn't care. The last he wanted was for this woman to find out his relationship to Yukari. After watching what she had done to Yukio and the other man, he wanted nothing to do with any of it anymore.

Nyamo frowned. The man was in terrible shape and looked as though he would collapse at any moment, balancing on his good leg. He had been in the car accident, and that was all she needed to know to know that he was in some way connected with Yukio. She took a good, long look at his face for future reference before turning her face away in disgust.

"Get out of my sight," she sneered quietly. All of it made her sick. This place, these people.

The dealer had already turned and started hobbling away in the other direction as fast as he could. He owed the woman for saving him from his fate at Yukio's hands. Next time he would have to be more careful about which girls he chose to work for him, if he ever obtained any more at all. There was no telling what kinds of people some girls dragged into his business. Not exactly his business, but Yukio's.

Nyamo sighed and let the gun drop from her fingers. It clattered against the pavement, echoing as the only audible sound on the bridge. Her body was still on high alert with adrenaline and she knew that she was not out of hot water yet. It was only a matter of time before either Yukio woke up or his assistant roused enough energy to even the score, and there was still one very important thing that she had to take care of. She turned and went quickly back to where Yukari had fallen.

* * *

"_Sheesh, Nyamo! You're still here? Get a life already!"_

"_Look who's talking. Last time I checked, they weren't giving out scholarships for the highest video game scores."_

"_Poor, narrow-minded Nyamo. You'll simply never understand my sophisticated method of study. So are you finished here or not? My video games aren't gonna play themselves, ya know."_

"_What'll you do when one day you get sick of playing games?" _

"_When that day comes, my life will have lost meaning."_

"_Some meaning. What about when you get to college?"_

"…_..Do what?"_

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**Note:** Fourths. I meant dividing this chapter into fourths. Dammit.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** Thank you to those who have followed along with this fiction.

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**Chapter 18**

Aside from curling into herself, Yukari had not moved since the foreigner had dropped her. She was balled up on her side with her head ducked and arms hugged tightly around her chest.

Nyamo crouched down beside the motionless figure and gently rested a hand to her friend's shoulder to turn her onto her back. The raging monster had returned to its cage and Nyamo had returned to normal. The hateful glare in her eyes was more or less gone, now replaced with a gentle concern that she held exclusively for one person.

"Yukar—" The word became caught when she shifted Yukari and got a better look at her face. The previously vibrant young woman was hardly recognizable and for a split second Nyamo wondered if she had mistaken her identity after all. It was a given that after surviving a car accident a person would sustain injuries, but the woman before her was also severely underweight and haggard. That couldn't be it though. Those soft brown eyes, dulled as they were, were unmistakable when they slid open and focused on nothing in particular. Nyamo was torn between two realities, feeling deep remorse at the frail condition of Yukari's body, but also thinking that those eyes were two of the most beautiful and wonderful things that she had seen in months. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry though she ended up doing neither. Now was not the time to let herself get emotional in any way. She swallowed hard to keep her voice steady when she spoke up again. "Yukari…Can you hear me?"

Yukari could only balance herself on the edge of consciousness. She had lost a lot of blood and her body currently spent most of its energy trying to keep her temperature up and her brain as active as possible. Upon opening her eyes she was met with a series of blurred shapes and colors, more shadows than light. Slowly the myriad of meaningless blurbs was given form and focus, and she found herself looking up into the face of a very familiar woman. She nearly choked on the next breath that she tried to take in and was almost reluctant to believe that she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. She could have been hallucinating, or she might have been dead and was currently staring up into the face of her afterlife representative.

"Ny—" she could barely manage to force the name from between her lips. Nyamo was too good to be true. She had always been too good to be true. Especially now at this point in time, in the darkest moment of her life as of yet, Yukari was suddenly filled with a thrilling sense of elation that for once the murky shroud that had befallen her existence had parted and no one but Nyamo was there, just as she had always been. Whether the vision was real or not, it didn't really matter. The effect was the same on Yukari's tired mind, making her feel as though nothing else could ever go wrong.

Nyamo had taken a quick inventory of Yukari's body, noting the gash across her forehead, multiple lacerations along the exposed skin of her arms and shoulders, as well as other curious wounds that were too precise to have been caused by the accident. On the backs of both Yukari's hands were holes that looked like volcanoes of skin, and on the inside of her arms were the tracks of numerous puncture wounds. From what she could see, the most serious injury was Yukari's right leg, out from which a bone could be seen protruding. Her gaze shot back up when she heard the first syllable of her name spoken. Doing her best to smile, though she didn't feel much like it, she alighted her hand to Yukari's cheek.

"Hey…"

"Mm…" Yukari closed her eyes to the touch and brought her lower lip between her teeth. The hand against her cheek was warm, proof that the Nyamo crouching above her was not simply a vision. It was the real Nyamo. Yukari knew that she was miles away from her home and her familiar life, and yet somehow despite the distance that she had fallen, Nyamo had found her. After everything that had happened, all of the mistakes she had made, and all that she had done over the years, there was no feeling that was comparable to what she felt when she realized at last that what she had was a true friend. Not just a friend, but a loyal companion to take that extra step that was required to look out for her.

"I'm here," Nyamo said softly. Her motions were rather hasty when she carefully took Yukari's arms one at a time and brought them up around her neck. She wanted to get her friend out of there before Yukio or his assistant came around. She wouldn't have been able to fend off either of the men and take care of Yukari at the same time, though she didn't think that she would have been able to fight anyway. Knowing that she had found Yukari made her surge with joy, but that joy had clashed with a deep sorrow when she had seen the condition that she had found Yukari in. Her emotions were scattered and she wasn't exactly in a stable sense of mind. "Just hold tight."

"Nyamo…" Yukari felt her arms lifted and tightened them as much as she could about Nyamo's neck. She was cold, hurting, and didn't have much strength left, but somehow she couldn't remember a time that she had felt more safe and secure. Two arms came to hold around her waist and she rested her chin over Nyamo's shoulder. It had become too much. The drugs, the men, the pushers, the apathy. They had all been her escape, and then they had been her cage. She had fallen so far, pushed beyond her limit and taken to the brink of death. At last she knew what she wanted. No more living for the sake of feeling death. It was time to divest herself of what she had become and return to the familiar things that she had left behind, even though that meant returning to everything that she had been running from in the first place. It was better than dwelling in this current, wretched condition. She buried her face into the side of Nyamo's neck and didn't try to stop the tears as they came. "I want to go home…"

"It's all right, baby. I'm gonna get you out of here," Nyamo spoke in just above a whisper, straightening her legs to lift herself and Yukari up from the hard ground. The weight of Yukari's body felt unreal in her arms. She couldn't even begin to imagine what had reduced the once healthy young woman to such a state of atrophy. Thinking about it only deepened the extent of her resentment and she almost considered setting Yukari down and gouging out Yukio's other eye just for good measure. Yet she had to set those thoughts aside. Right now she was more concerned with getting Yukari to a hospital than exacting revenge.

She looked up and down the bridge and was temporarily disoriented as to where she was. She wasn't familiar with this area of the city and had been so focused on fending off her friend's attackers that she hadn't exactly been thinking about which way was North. Yukio's car was still parked with the engine running only a few yards off to her left. She could very easily take the car, but it wouldn't do her a bit of good if she didn't know how to get to the hospital from where she was.

Suddenly from beyond the white coupe there came the flash of another set of headlights. A vehicle had turned the corner onto the bridge and was approaching at a speed that was too fast to be casual. Nyamo briefly had to turn her head away from the white glare of the lights before squinting her eyes to try and get a look at the car itself. A passing car could be a good thing, but it could also be something very bad in this part of the city. She decided against raising her hand to hail the driver just in case her 'worst case scenario' thoughts turned out to be true and the driver was another of Yukio's accomplices.

The car came screeching to a halt just in front of where Nyamo stood. The car was not expensive and exotic like Yukio's. It was small, yellow and bore several noticeable dents in its front bumper and fenders. It was a taxi. The door of the drivers' side opened a man stumbled out with a wave of his arm. Nyamo instantly recognized him as the same driver she had bailed on not too long ago.

"I saw what happened," the man's voice was rushed with concern as he went to the back door of the taxi and opened it. Out of all the things that he had witnessed as a taxi driver, he had never had a passenger leap out of his cab while it was moving. At first he had thought that the woman was trying to escape without paying, but by the time he turned the cab around to follow her he had seen her there on the bridge beating the crap out of the two men at the crash scene. It hadn't taken him long to figure out what was going on. "Hurry and get in."

Nyamo exhaled a sigh of relief. She had completely forgotten about the fact that she had bailed from a taxi and left the driver without his payment. Whatever the reason was that he had stuck around, she was glad that he did. The kindness of strangers was always the most unexpected and usually the most appreciated in the end.

"Thanks. You know the way to the nearest hospital?" she replied and made her way to the back door of the cab, keeping her steps as fluid and careful as she could. She could hear the soft, muffled sounds of Yukari crying against her shoulder and certainly didn't want to give her friend anything more to cry about.

"Of course! I know this city like the back of my head," the man jested tentatively. He wanted to remain optimistic despite the morbid situation but his methods weren't shared by the dark haired woman.

Nyamo lowered herself to sit on the edge of the back seat and with the driver's help she was able to shift herself backwards and bring Yukari up to lean against her side. Yukari's legs were what concerned her the most. She didn't want to put Yukari in a position where she would have had to bend them. Both legs looked as though they had been crushed and it was best to keep the bones from shifting as much as possible. From the seat she would slide to crouch down on the floor and give Yukari the full length of the seat to lay on.

Yukari had a hard time keeping her cries of discomfort at bay as she was transferred into the cab. Several times she flinched and whimpered loudly before finally she was laid still on her back. She didn't even want to think about what she must have looked like. If the level of her pain was any indication then she must have looked dreadfully bad. When she opened her eyes she could see Nyamo at her side and turned her head to look at her. Nyamo was what she wanted to focus on. Nyamo was something positive and safe, and as long as she could keep Nyamo in her sights then she knew that she was going to be all right.

Nyamo slipped her arm under Yukari's neck and leaned over to kiss her gently on the forehead. Being so close, she was able to speak softly as she brushed aside those tussled brown bangs.

"Stay awake…Just stay awake and look at me," she whispered and kissed her once more. She didn't want Yukari losing consciousness. Sometimes the most devastating injuries were those that couldn't be seen. By the gash on her forehead it was obvious that Yukari had sustained some trauma to the head. If she closed her eyes for too long now in a flat position it was an unpredictable thing to guess when or if she would be opening them again.

For once Yukari didn't make any attempt at defiance. She did feel tired and it would have been nice to rest her eyes, but more important than doing that was seeing Nyamo and remembering what it was like to feel warmth. She just wanted to look into those dark blue eyes and study them to no end.

The driver returned to the front of the cab and climbed inside. As the cab peeled off across the bridge, a solitary figure emerged from underneath the guard rail. The slinky form of an orange cat separated itself from the shadows and watched the tail lights of the taxi disappear around the corner. Silently it padded across the street until it came to an object several feet away from Yukio's unconscious body. A red, meaty ball, stringy but full of protein and other nutrients. The feline sniffed at the morsel before taking it by the tendons like it would a mouse by the tail. The taste wouldn't be the best, but beggars can't be choosers.

* * *

_Not a cloud in the sky was present to dull the blaring heat of the mid-summer sun as it passively roasted the city of Tokyo. It was the middle of the afternoon when temperatures were at their peaks and wind factors were at their minimums._

_Minamo groaned inwardly and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was only during the summer that she wished she had P.E. in the mornings. To have been able to play volley ball, soccer, or any other sport that could possibly take place on grass would have been a blessing. Instead she and the rest of her class stood in formation along with two other classes on the sizzling deck of the pool, feeling the heat seep up through the thin soles of their pool shoes._

_It was wonderful to go swimming in the summer, just not during school. This was the second time that her class had been made to change into their swim suits just to go out and stand for the entire period and listen to the coach lecture about pool safety, rules, and regulations. _

_Coach Mutsu was a stocky man in his fifties who had been a star baseball player all through his college days. His office area was lined with old photos, newspaper clippings, and trophies with captions that might as well have been tombstone inscriptions signifying the death f his glory. He was no longer the fit, energetic athlete of his youth. His hair had thinned and grayed, his figure had turned flabby, and he weighed almost twice as much as he had twenty years ago. The aging process had not been gentle to him. Having watched himself transform into an old pear-shaped blob, he had been left bitter and resentful of the young teens he had to supervise every day._

_His low tolerance for any kind of fooling around wasn't a real problem for the majority of his students, and he did make it a point to know his students. He learned about them during their first year and made doubly sure that they knew about him and his policies for the rest of their time at the school. Among the three classes of first-year students who were present at the pool that afternoon, he had no problems with any of them, but he also hadn't gotten to know every single last one of them as of yet._

_Clasping his burly hands at his back, the coach paced steadily back and forth before the rows of students like a General briefing his troops. _

"_Another thing I want to make clear to all of you is that proper CPR procedures should not be administered by any uncertified individual. If any one of you know-nothing kids tries to be a hero and ends up killing one of your peers, it's my ass that's gonna be on the line," he stated and turned sharply on his heel to retrace his steps in the other direction. _

_In the very back row of the second class, Yukari heaved her shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. Thirty minutes that man had been lecturing. She had counted every one and had stopped listening at minute ten. Right behind her was the shallow end of the pool, rippling and inviting her to sample its thin depth. Just a foot, just a hand she could reach in and satisfy her desire for something cool to the touch, but no. It would be too obvious and she didn't want to risk falling in entirely. _

_Finally she couldn't stand the lack of activity any more. She was bored almost to the point of tears and couldn't even fall asleep under the blistering heat of the sun. At the coach's last statement she smirked and nudged the boy standing beside her. The boy was an exchange student, an American who had transferred into her class a few days before. _

"_I feel sorry for the line that his ass lands on," she muttered the statement in fluent English. The boy snickered and quickly muffled the sound behind his hand. _

_The Coach stopped in mid step and spun in the direction of the voice. _

"_Who said that! Speak up!" His hands came from his back to clench as he looked over the faces of the students, searching for the guilty party. _

_Yukari looked just as bored as ever when she propped a hand to her hip and raised her other one into the air. The coach wanted her to speak up so that's exactly what she would do. When she replied she made sure that she spoke loud enough for all of the students to hear, though most of them wouldn't understand what she said because she continued to speak in English._

"_I said it! Just talkin' about pool stuff!"_

_Minamo didn't need to look in order to know who the student was. Mentally she cringed and hoped that Yukari would be quiet for her own sake, which she knew that she probably wouldn't. She hadn't known Yukari for a very long time but knew her well enough to gather that the girl was just a tad on the impulsive side, not one to consider consequences._

_Coach Mutsu glowered at the girl before yanking his roll sheet from his pocket to check her name. Class two, third column, last row. Tanizaki Yukari. He would remember that._

"_You have some nerve to talk like that to your superiors." Not that he had actually been able to make out what she had said. It had been decades since he had been in an English class and most of what he had learned of the language had been lost over time. Still he wouldn't allow himself to lose face in front of his students. They were first years and didn't know much about English either. _

"_Like what? I actually think it's fitting that we should be taught how to swim by a whale. The world's ugliest whale, no less," Yukari smirked and met his gaze easily as she folded her arms. The American boy beside her as well as two other American girls in the other classes suddenly burst out in fits of laughter. None of the other students knew exactly what had been said, but it was funny just to know that whatever it was, it had been comical enough to make the native English speakers laugh. A wave of restrained laughter filtered through all three classes._

"_That's it! If you won't speak correctly then you won't speak at all!" Coach Mutsu shouted and thrust his index finger towards the pool. Evidently the girl had too much energy. He would have to do something about that. "Now get in the pool! You can tread water until the end of the period." _

_It was a wonderful stroke of luck. Yukari smiled, shrugged, then kicked off her pool shoes before turning and leaping into the shallow end of the water. If this was punishment then she should have acted up a long time ago. She could feel the envious eyes of the other students upon her as she touched her feet to the bottom of the pool and submerged herself._

_When she emerged again and wiped the water from her eyes she saw that the coach was standing at the edge of the deck and pointing towards the other end of the pool._

"_I said 'tread water', Tanizaki."_

_Yukari looked to where he was pointing. The deep end of the pool. She hadn't stopped to consider that treading water meant actually treading the water. All of the students were watching her intently to see what she would do. Of course they expected her to just swim to the deep end and do as the coach had told her to do. The only problem was that she hadn't told anyone that she didn't know how to swim. _

_Minamo quietly made her way through the other students to the edge of the pool. There she could get a better look at what was going on. Yukari was in the shallow end looking like the mouse who had taken the baited cheese. She frowned when she saw the smile on her friend's face. It was the sneering, rebellious type of smirk of someone who knew something important that others didn't. The last time she had seen that smile was when Yukari had tripped in the cafeteria and sent her tray spilling onto the floor. The girl had then gotten up and proceeded to tell the on-looking crowd that she had done it on purpose because she didn't like the janitor. That smile could only mean one thing. Yukari had no idea what she was doing. _

_Yukari squared her shoulders and looked straight into the eyes of the oppressive coach. She wouldn't let him win in this. If she backed down from accepting her punishment then the other students would never let her live it down. All kids at her age were expected to know how to swim. Not being able to swim was like not being able to read or write. It was just another one of those common things, but one that she had never paid much attention to._

"_Je n'oublierai pas ceci! (1)" she shouted at the coach before turning and making her way slowly towards the deep end of the pool. _

_Foot after foot, the further the moved, the less contact she was able to make with the ground. The students around the edge of the pool began to mutter softly amongst themselves. She could see them all but didn't spare any of them the slightest bit of a glance. Her focus went entirely to the motions of her arms and legs. There was something important about proper coordination that she vaguely remembered overhearing someone say some time ago. The water level rose up around her shoulders, then her neck, and finally she took a deep breath as the depth of the pool exceeded the height of her body. _

_She theorized that maybe if she started to run out of air that some instinct would kick in and miraculously her body would propel itself to the surface. She opened her eyes and looked up at the surface of the water several feet above her. Legs pushing, arms reaching, but the surface came no closer. Her lungs were beginning to strain and at once she felt the smallest sliver of panic creep in through her determination. Students were still standing on the ledge above her, and yet she was alone. They might as well have been hundreds of thousands of miles away because none of them moved. None of them even knew. In minutes she could drown right in front of them, a mere five feet away, and they wouldn't have even realized it. She closed her eyes and released some of the oxygen in her lungs to alleviate the pressure. It proved to be a mistake when she felt herself begin to sink further. _

"_Help!" she would have loved to scream, but sound couldn't travel up through water. Seriously she began to panic and thrash her body. It should have been so easy to lift herself up those few feet. The surface was right there. Why should it have been so hard? At last her body did rebel against its compromising situation, but it wasn't what Yukari had been anticipating. Her lungs acted against the will of her mind and expanded, effectively flooding themselves. _

_Up on the deck, Minamo shifted her weight, looked up at the sky, checked her watch, and absently scratched behind her ear. All the while she couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The students around her had seen the exact same thing that she had, but none of them seemed concerned. Hadn't Yukari just been smiling? If something had been wrong then she wouldn't have swam into the deeper water._

"_Didn't I tell you that girl was weird?"_

"_What did she say?"_

"_Dunno. What's she doing?"_

"_Coach Mutsu shouldn't have made her do that."_

"_I wish I could tread water right about now."_

_Minamo clenched her jaw. This was going on quite long enough. She didn't care how it would look or what the other students would think when she kicked off her pool shoes and immediately dove into the water. There was the chance that Yukari was really playing a trick, but if there was one thing that Minamo's mother had taught her, it was to follow her own intuition. Right now her intuition was telling her that all was not right. _

_Under the water she didn't need to swim very far in order to reach Yukari. The girl was floating there, seemingly lifeless. Minamo swam behind her and hooked her arms under the others'. Using coordinated thrusts of her legs she drove both herself and Yukari upwards. She knew that her premonition had been correct when Yukari didn't inhale upon reaching the surface. Suddenly the students at the closest edge were crouched down and reaching out to assist her. _

_Several hands grabbed for Yukari, two taking her by each arm and two more by the legs to drag her from Minamo's hold and out of the water. No sooner was she laid on her back than Coach Mutsu barreled his way through and fell to his knees beside her. _

"_Everyone stand back! I need room to work!" He spread his arms out to move the students away then looked down to the matter at hand. The girl wasn't breathing. This was definitely not going to look good on his record. Nervously he rubbed his hands together before tipping the girl's head back. Her lips parted and he reached a finger into her mouth to make sure that she wouldn't swallow her tongue._

_Minamo hauled herself up onto the deck and broke through the congregation of bodies to see if Yukari was all right. The sight was less than appealing for more than one reason. Coach Mutsu's large form was crouched above Yukari's. The fingers of one of his hands plugged her nose, and his lips closed over hers. _

_Like all the other students watching, Nyamo couldn't fight the grimace that worked its way onto her face and stayed there. It was a good thing that Yukari was unconscious. _

_The coach lifted up and pressed the heel of one hand to Yukari's chest, then pressed down on it with his other hand. One, two, three, four, five compressions, and suddenly Yukari spit up several mouthfuls of water. _

_Yukari hadn't been entirely unconscious. Rather she had been unaware and her body had been unresponsive. She knew what was happening when she felt lips over her own and fingers plugging her nose. When the water was forced from her lungs she felt the physical pressure release and she coughed reflexively. The air was wonderful. It even tasted good when she took that first breath. _

_The students erupted into wild cheers and Minamo quickly found herself at the center of it. She had never gotten so many hugs, hand shakes, or pats on the back before. Modest as she was, it actually made her feel something like a celebrity. Her cheeks grew hot and she absently rubbed the back of her neck, not quite realizing that the incident had earned her a new kind of reputation that would remain with her for a long time after._

_Yukari didn't exactly get to bask in such attention. She opened her eyes and saw kneeling above her the wrinkly, fat face of Coach Mutsu. Instantly she was able to piece together what had just happened. Her eyes went wide, her skin paled, and with all the last remnants of her dignity and hope of ever being seen as something more than a screw up, she screamed_

…_and screamed_

…_and screamed._

* * *

**Note:** The rumble is over for now. Time to get freaky. Stay tuned, and leave some feedback if ya want. Lemon equals yes or no?

**(1)** I will not forget this!


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** Randomness. The girl in Paranoia Agent is way too similar to Osaka.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Whiteness. Yukari hadn't even been aware that she had lost consciousness until the dark waters that flooded her mind were suddenly shot through with a piercing illumination. She began to register sounds and pieces of images. Someone was talking—no, shouting. Several people. By the intensity of their tones she could tell that they were yelling at the tops of their lungs, yet they sounded fuzzy and dull like a bad radio signal.

White lights passed in intervals overhead, and little by little she made out the countenance of a strange man leaning over her. She didn't know the man, nor did she know the other man and the woman who suddenly came into view on her other side. The last thing she could recall was Nyamo.

Suddenly her brows furrowed. She frowned and tried to lift her head. She couldn't see Nyamo. Nyamo had been right there at her side, and now she wasn't anywhere. Had she even been there in the first place? It couldn't have been a hallucination. It had seemed too real, but if it had been real then Nyamo should have been there where she could see her. Swiftly overcome with dread at the notion that she had imagined the entire thing, Yukari attempted to lift up on her elbows and see exactly what was going on.

"Minamo…?" her voice sounded meek to her own ears. She had always hated weakness when it pertained to herself. Whenever she was confused or wrong or didn't know what she was doing, she never let on to it. She liked to believe that she was always in control of herself and always knew what she was doing, even if she had to make it up as she went along. At the moment she didn't care about upholding her image of invincibility. She was disoriented and scared, and all she wanted was some assurance that she was not still wasting away in some run-down Hell hole with meaningless drugs and men who would pay to spend some time with her body.

A hand pressed against her chest and pushed her back down. More voices, more shouting. A red flag went up in her mind and she struggled harder to sit up. She would not return to that place. No one could make her. She didn't want anymore drugs. She didn't want anymore men touching her. None of it ever again.

"_Minamo!_" she screamed loudly and did her best to worm away from the hand pressing down on her chest. Two more hands came and grabbed her by the wrists, and still more trapped her ankles and held them still. Not again. She couldn't take any more hands groping and grabbing at her, keeping her subdued beneath the bulky, gyrating bodies of random men. She began to sob hysterically and did what she could to fight, but her body was in no condition for any kind of self defense. The fingers that held around her wrists were replaced with straps of leather that kept her hands up by her head. The straps were tightened and buckled, and she became ensnared. Any attempts that she made to kick her legs were met with no response from the lower half of her body.

"_MINAMO!_"

* * *

"_Hey Minamo!" _

_School was out for the day and Minamo Kurosawa had just walked out through the front entrance gates when she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Yukari running towards her from across the street. _

_Yukari must have skipped out on her last class again. The girl was still dressed in her uniform but she was smudged all over with dirt and instead of her book bag she was carrying a small box._

"_Yukari, where have you been? You look like you've been working on cars or something," Minamo frowned in disapproval of her friend's appearance. She wondered just how many uniforms Yukari went through in the course of a year. _

_In the two years that they had been going to school together, Yukari had torn one skirt when she had unknowingly leaned up against a paper shredder, ruined one top when accidentally she spilled red paint on herself and claimed that she had done it in the name of art and the Japanese flag, and had lost one entire uniform including the shoes and socks when somehow she had caught them on fire. Yukari had avoided giving out the exact details of the incident and had said only that she came close to inventing a new kind of firework. _

"_Don't worry about that. Check this out!" Yukari motioned for the other girl to follow as she ran back into the school yard. She made her way along the inside of the wall that lined the grounds of the school until she came to the corner where one wall met the other._

_Usually when Yukari was excited about something, it was cause for Minamo to be wary. Against the protests from her own better judgment, Minamo followed her friend and stopped a few feet behind her when they reached the corner of the school yard._

"_That better not be another bottle rocket," she frowned and eyed the box that Yukari set down on the ground. _

_Yukari turned to the wall and jumped up to peer over the top of it. After a moment she smiled mischievously and lowered back down._

"_Just right," she whispered before returning to her mystery box. She opened up the top of the box and reached slowly inside. Something inside the box scuttled around and Minamo grew wide-eyed._

"_What theWhat is that?"_

_Yukari didn't reply but finally grabbed the wiggling object and quickly hurled it over the wall. Minamo had seen the object only long enough to know that it was writhing, black, and hairy. Moments later from where the object had landed there came the sound of children screaming. _

_Minamo ran to the wall and jumped up to look over the other side and see what was going on. A group of grade school children, no older than five or six, had been standing at the intersection waiting to cross. The thing that Yukari had hurled had landed right in the midst of them, particularly on one girl's backpack. A large, frantic sewer rat. Currently the rat scurried among the scattering children who screamed, ran into each other, and even burst into tears in their attempts to get away from the mangy rodent. _

_Yukari peeked the top of her head over the wall to watch the small scope of chaos she had caused. The sight brought a bright to her face and she laughed as she dropped back down to the ground. _

"_Ha ha! That was great!"_

_Minamo too dropped down and looked at the other girl as though she had lost her mind._

"_Yukari, that was really mean. What if one of the kids had gotten bit?" It was moments like this when she really would have liked to know what exactly was going on in Yukari's head. Terrorizing small children with a rat was a delinquent thing to do. _

"_Oh, lay off. I saw the rat in an alley way and it was just too good to pass up!" Yukari dismissed the concerns of her friend with a careless wave of her hand. It was just a rat after all. It wasn't like grade school kids had all that much else to worry about in their lives. Cute things like little kids made her sick anyway, just like anything else that was fluffy, tender, heart warming, or touching. Those kinds of things were directly relevant to the heart, and matters of the heart were synonymous with vulnerability. Every time she saw something like that she had the urge to cause it some misfortune to remind it that it wasn't so great. _

_Minamo blanched at the response. It was hard to believe that someone would pull such a sadistic prank on a group of harmless kids just for the simple sake of convenience. It would have been different if the kids had been Yukari's own age._

"_What is with you? None of those kids ever did anything to you!" she raised her voice angrily and walked around to block Yukari's path._

"_Relax! I figure that since I'm always blamed for everything that happens at school anyway, why not live up to the reputation? Other girls could only dream of being as popular as I am."_

"_That's nothing to be proud of!"_

"_Ha! You just don't get it, Nyamo. You think I have a problem with the way people talk about me? I would feel cheated if they didn't!" Yukari replied and stepped around the other girl. _

_Minamo frowned and watched the problem child walk off. Yukari did have a point when it came to her definition of popularity. Nearly everyone in the school was familiar with Yukari in some way, but her status was not something that anyone would have asked for._

"_If that's really what you want…" she sighed and headed from the school yard._

* * *

The emergency room had been in a state of absolute pandemonium by the time the cab slammed to a halt outside its doors. The driver hadn't bothered to cut the engine before leaping out to fetch the doctor on call. Yukari had blacked out several blocks before they reached the hospital and looked to have taken a turn for the worst. 

Emergency rooms were always the busiest in the middle of the night. Drunk drivers, robberies gone wrong, and hundreds of other incidents had the ambulances constantly on the move and the doctors flying from one operating room to the next. However it didn't take long for a team of medics to grab a gurney and rush out to the taxi to grab this most recent case.

Yukari had been transferred onto the gurney and the medics were already working on her before they even made it through the doors.

Nyamo had trotted behind the gurney but hadn't made it very far into the emergency room itself before a nurse suddenly approached her and grabbed her by the arm. The nurse was an older lady with stern features and too much makeup who smelled like a mixture of perfume and plastic.

"Excuse me, miss. If you could please come this way," the nurse said with mechanical politeness. In a place like the emergency room, her job was the only one that provided routine. It was also the worst job, dealing with the relatives of patients who were brought in. During every shift she had to put up with the hysterical, the despondent, and the uncooperative friends and family who thought that the patient would in some way have a better chance of surviving if they were around to watch.

Nyamo had frowned at the woman and pulled her arm away. She couldn't even think about letting Yukari out of her sight. Not now after she had just found her.

"But my friend is-"

"I know, but we need you over here," the nurse interjected and pulled the woman from the main corridor to get her out of the way. Non-medical personnel were not allowed in the emergency room itself. There was always too much activity and often times the ER was no place for inexperienced eyes to wander.

Off to the left of the main hall was a small reception and waiting area. Every seat in the waiting room was occupied and there were people leaning up against the walls, some even sitting on the floor. Sitting at the reception desk was another nurse. He was a younger man with light brown hair wearing dark blue scrubs. The name tag attached to the left side of his shirt read "Hiroshi" and was adorned with a sappy-looking smiley face. Nyamo couldn't help but eye that smiley face with a hint of distaste. It was pointless to try and invoke happy thoughts in an emergency room.

"Hey there. Here ya go," the man offered a soft grin and handed up an information sheet for Nyamo to fill out.

Nyamo couldn't even think, much less write. She stared at the sheet like it was the world's hardest math problem before quickly shaking her head. Right now there wasn't anything else that she could do. What else could she expect? She had gotten Yukari to the hospital, and the rest was now in the hands of the doctors and Yukari herself.

With shaky fingers she picked up one of the pens from the desk and looked at the papers in front of her. They were patient information forms. As carefully as a child writing her first sentence, she filled out the boxes with Yukari's information. Name, age, address, phone number, allergies, reason for admittance….It was only when she got to the middle of the second page that she hesitated to write down a response.

_12. Is the patient (using/ever used) uncertified medicinal or chemical substances?_

Nyamo stared at the question. At first she wasn't exactly sure what it was asking for. Uncertified drugs didn't necessarily mean street drugs, and all medicines were chemical in some way. Sighing, she decided to skip over it. She couldn't even begin to imagine what kinds of things had been finding their way into Yukari's system and she didn't want to think about it.

No sooner had she finished the forms than suddenly there was the sound of something crashing down the hall. People were shouting and several medics rushed past the reception area towards where the commotion was coming from. Amid the cacophony of voices, one in particular rose above them.

"_MINAMO!_"

Nyamo snapped her head up to the unmistakable timbre of Yukari's voice. Yukari had woken up. The P.E. teacher dashed back out to the first corridor in time to see two doctors and a nurse rushing Yukari on a gurney from an operating room. Yukari was struggling and finally the nurses had to restrain her by other means to keep her from hurting herself. They bound her hands into the leather straps on the sides of the gurney and two medics ran up to assist by holding her legs.

"Hey! Wait!" Nyamo shouted and ran after the team. It was actually better that the doctors paid no attention to her request. Something had evidently gone wrong with Yukari that required their immediate action. Not a second could be spared, but a second was all that Nyamo wanted. Never before had she seen Yukari so out of control. The normally nonchalant woman was sobbing openly and fighting the doctors as though her life depended on getting away from them. It was hard to believe that this was the same Yukari who had lived her life so freely.

The team of doctors and nurses exited the main area of the ER through a set of heavy double doors at the other end of the corridor. The doors were not automatic and the area beyond them was marked as restricted against visitors.

Nyamo reached the doors two seconds too late. She ended up slamming into them as they closed and sealed her out. Growling, she pounded her fist against the thick glass of their windows.

"Yukari!"

All she had wanted was to tell her friend that everything would be fine. Even if she didn't really know how things would turn out, she couldn't stand to see Yukari so upset.

"Hey, you!" the nurse who had first taken Nyamo aside shouted and came trotting up to her. "You're not allowed to be out here!"

Before the nurse could take her by the arm, Nyamo turned and stormed back down the hallway. She didn't stop at the waiting room but instead left the emergency room all together. Right now she didn't want to be around anyone. She didn't want anyone telling her that they were sorry or that they knew how she felt. No one could know how she felt because they didn't know her and they didn't know Yukari. Even if they had known Yukari then they wouldn't have understood. Sometimes she didn't even understand it herself.

Outside of the emergency room she left the cul-de-sac where the ambulances were parked and found an empty bench to sit down on. There on the bench she hugged her arms around herself and lowered her forehead to her knees. Nothing was making sense to her anymore. She had too many questions and no one who could give her answers. More than anything she wanted to know why Yukari had ended up as she had. There had to have been a reason or a cause, and she knew that it wasn't something as simple as stress or too much fun. There was a connection that she was missing. After all, it had been Yukio. Out of all the people who could have been involved, it had been him.

It was several hours before she was able to drag herself back into the waiting room of the ER. As she approached, the older nurse looked up from her place behind the reception desk and motioned her over. Nyamo was too tired to even give the woman a dirty look as she went over and stood with her arms limp at her sides.

"There you are. I've been looking for you," the nurse gave her a scolding look and stood up from her seat, grabbing a chart that had been sitting on her desk.

Nyamo parted her lips to make an obscene reply but the nurse continued before she could speak the first word.

"I just wanted to let you know that your friend, Ms.-" the woman opened and checked the file in her hands, "Tanizaki. They're still operating, but so far she's in stable condition. The doctor will come out later to give you a full report."

Nyamo expelled a gentle breath.

"All right….Thanks."

The nurse's expression changed to a none-too-subtle smirk. From inside Yukari's file she pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk to Nyamo.

"Also, her blood tests came back with some pretty interesting results. We're gonna need you to sign this."

"What is it?" Nyamo replied. She took the paper into one hand and reached for a pen with the other.

"It's to ensure the safety of the patient and also to cover our own asses against any liability suits. She's gonna have to go through detox before she leaves here."

Halfway through signing her name, Nyamo looked up with one eyebrow cocked. She should have guessed that the hospital would take measures to protect itself. Still, it was also for Yukari's own good.

"Detox…" Somehow she didn't like the way the nurse made it sound. She signed the rest of her name and pushed the form back across the desk. "It shouldn't be too bad right?"

"Oh, hun…" The nurse snatched up the paper and tucked it safely back into Yukari's chart. Her smile turned sympathetic towards the woman standing across from her. Sometimes she envied those individuals who didn't have to do what she did, or witness what she had to witness. Many thought that the most wretched things in life took place out on the streets where there was no authority or moral ground. It was true that the scum of society was most blamed for the most horrible acts, but no one ever suspected the burden that doctors had to bare when they took on patients who were addicted to one thing or another. "Whatever you've seen, you haven't seen the worst."

**

* * *

**

**Note:** The next chapter is probably going toget prettygraphic, both sexually and violently. Just a warning.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** This is the edited and extended version of this chapter. The first version was crap. I'm also going to take this opportunity to say that dubbed anime is not the anti-Christ. Until dubbed anime becomes directly tied in with the collapse of the human race, I say big freakin' deal! Watch anime however it pleases you, enjoy it, and leave me the Hell alone! Besides...I happen to like Monica Rial.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

_Yukari stared blankly at the graded math test in her hands. In the upper left hand corner of the paper was a large '48' written in red ink, circled, and underlined. Her lip turned up at the grade with a sense of fulfilled expectation. It wasn't as though she had spent any great amount of time studying for the test. Even if she had, she wouldn't have done much better. Her brain absorbed information about numbers and equations about as good as a rotten sponge would absorb crusty molasses. _

_The girl sitting behind her casually leaned forward and peeked over her shoulder._

"_What'd you get, Yukari?"_

"_None of your business!" Yukari snapped and slammed the test face down on her desk. No one ever asked what her scores were on linguistics tests. It seemed that they were only interested in her progress when they knew that she was failing. _

_The other girl sat back with a shrewd smirk. _

"_A forty eight, huh? That figures," she sighed and stood from her desk to go compare her own sixty-five percent with her friends in the back. It was at least good to know that as long as there was a moron like Yukari in the class, there was no chance for anyone else to assume the position on the bottom rung of the academic ladder._

_Yukari frowned at the girl's back before returning her attention to her face-down test. Why should it have figured that she had gotten a forty eight? She doubted that anyone else had gotten above a seventy on this test. Quietly she took up her test and folded it three ways to slip into the pocket of her skirt. _

_On the other side of the classroom, Minamo was leaning back against her desk with her own test rolled up in her hand. A boy sitting in the desk next to hers had turned to inquire about her score. Minamo shrugged softly and unrolled her test to reveal the forty-eight at the top of it._

"_I didn't do so well. I studied all last night but some of this stuff I just don't get."_

"_Ah don't worry too much about it. You probably just had an off day or something," the boy smiled and held up his own test with a big, red fifty-three. "Hopefully there will be a curve."_

"_Yeah, hopefully." Minamo straightened and brought her book bag up to lay on her desk. From the bag she brought out a folder into which she slipped her test._

_Math seemed to be a weak point for everyone with the exception of a select few, but one test didn't make a difference to her anyway. As long as she was able to scrape by with at least a passing grade then she would be happy. Before she could tuck the folder back into her bag, a hand suddenly reached out from nowhere and snatched the folder from her grip._

"_Nyamo!" Yukari took possession of the folder and yanked it open to see what her friend had gotten. When she saw the red forty-eight, she blinked once, then frowned like a claims officer who had found something suspicious. "What's the meaning of this! Were you copying me?"_

_Minamo leaned over her desk and snatched the test back. _

"_How in world am I going to copy from you when you're on the other side of the room? And why would anyone copy off of _you _in the first place?"_

"_Don't give me that, you copying copier!" Yukari reached again for the test but ended up falling across Minamo's desk when the other girl stepped away._

_The desk and chair were knocked over, effectively sending Minamo's bag sliding to the floor. Folders and papers spilled out from the unsecured bag and Minamo sighed with exasperation. Yukari wouldn't have stopped until she got her way, but then it wasn't like there was anything that Minamo had to hide. She waited for Yukari to stand back up before resigning the test over to her._

"_That's what I thought," Yukari grumbled and grasped the test. She then brought out her own test from her pocket to compare the two. Both she and Minamo had both gotten a forty eight, but they had gotten points taken off for different things. So Minamo hadn't copied from her. This fact did little to make her feel any better though. It wasn't fair that they had gotten the same grade, and yet somehow for herself it was assumed 'typical' and for Minamo it was because she had an 'off day'. It wasn't like the athlete was renowned for her genius, and no one ever said anything when Yukari aced English tests. Situations like this had been going on ever since she had ended up in the same class with Minamo. It was always Minamo with her popularity, Minamo with her friendliness and charm, Minamo with her team spirit and unpretentious nature._

"_Really, Yukari. Don't get all bent out of shape over one test. You'll do better on the next one." Minamo lifted her desk and chair back up before crouching to gather her papers back into her bag._

"_Don't act altruistic! You're just as pissed about this grade as I am! Admit it!" Yukari threw Minamo's test to the ground._

"_Sure, I wish I had done better." Minamo casually picked up the test and slipped it into her bag with her folders. She then stood up and smoothed down the front of her shirt without a crease of frustration on her forehead. "I'll just have to try harder on the next one is all. You should too." _

_With that, she brushed past Yukari and headed from the classroom. She knew that refusing to fight with Yukari made the impulsive girl twice as angry than simply indulging her and carrying on a meaningless argument._

"_Don't tell me what to do! Who do you think you are?" Yukari shouted and shook her fist at Minamo's back, but her rhetorical question didn't even instigate a backwards glance from the other girl who already departed out into the hall._

"_Hmph…" She slouched down into Minamo's seat to sit sideways and prop her chin in her hand. It figured that Minamo would try to make their relationship into some kind of a competition. The athlete was always trying to show her up in one way or another, either by acting all noble in the face of defeat, having more friends, participating in more after school activities, or being nice and continuing to be associated her._

_After a moment she frowned and let her gaze fall to the floor. If that's how Minamo wanted to play her game, then she would just have to match her.. _

_It was several long minutes before Yukari dragged herself from her thoughts. Classes were over for the day and it was time to go home and create some new high scores on the video game she had gotten last week. _

_She stood up, but paused briefly when she caught sight of something on the floor under Minamo's desk. With a cant of her head she looked at the item. It was a simple piece of notebook paper that had been folded four ways, probably something that had fallen from Minamo's bag. The way in which it was folded foretold of something undesirable written on its hidden side like perhaps a quiz with a bad grade on it. Yukari grinned mischievously and reached down for the paper._

_The paper opened with a simple tug of its edges. Yukari read the first sentence, then the second, then the third. With each passing one, her eyes slowly grew wider and the grin faded from her expression. Her heart began to pound and she felt her cheeks grow slightly warm. This was no quiz. It was a letter. _

_Several times she read over the words to make sure that she was not mistaking their content for something else, but after the fifth read she was sure of the message. The letter was filled with personal thoughts and feelings that for all potential intents and purposes should have never been written down. She glanced over the name at the top, the name of the person to whom the letter was addressed, and her nose scrunched with confusion._

"_But…"_

_It was right there, perfectly legible as though it had been written slowly. The letter in itself was bad enough. Minamo had made the condemning mistake of taking an intimate feeling from the corner of her mind and giving it a physical form. It represented a piece of her that had now fallen straight into Yukari's hands. That Minamo was capable of having romantic feelings at all would have been the initial shock to Yukari, but even more profound was the person to whom the letter was intended._

_Eiko. The class representative._

"_But…" Yukari looked up just in time to see Eiko leaving the classroom. Eiko was like Minamo in many ways. Very friendly and popular, never judgmental, and seemingly without any enemies at all. Personality wise, they would have been a very good match._

"_But…" Yukari felt her arms go limp at her sides. "Eiko's a…"_

_For several moments she stood there, dumbfounded. What she now knew about Minamo, she was certain that no one else did. Yet for some reason she didn't feel like laughing. The implications of the letter were rather serious. _

_Suddenly shook her head and clenched the paper into her hand with a devilish smile. The letter was not simply a letter. It was a piece of evidence with which she could destroy Minamo if she wanted to. If word ever got out that Minamo had a thing for Eiko, the athlete would never hear the end of it. Minamo would discover what it was like to be ridiculed and her spotless reputation would be shattered. Undeniably Yukari had come into possession of something very valuable and she planned to use it to its fullest advantage._

_She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket as carefully as though it was a divine script sent down from the heavens. She ran back to her own desk, shoved her test into her bag, then dashed out the door. Her video games would have to wait until later. This evening she had an appointment with Miss Minamo Kurosawa, the girl who was into other girls._

* * *

The room stretched on forever in every direction. It had no visible walls and its ceiling was high. Yukari approached the foot end of a bed. Carpet was soft beneath her feet and air was cool against the exposed skin of her body. The room was dark, but the bed was not. It was illuminated from above by a window high up in the ceiling. The world outside the window was grey and storming, rain sounding dull against the glass. The space of the room was irrelevant. It had been a long time since Yukari had felt herself enter into it, and she didn't know what she was doing in it now. 

A feminine form lay sleeping in the bed. Nyamo was resting peacefully on her back, clad only in a man's button-up shirt, the sleeves of which she had rolled up to her fore arms. The shirt was large and reached a little past the top of her thighs. She was a spotless image of serenity, truly not a care in the world. She was the one, the star athlete, the elite personality, resting high up in her own ivory tower built upon humble perfection.

Yukari felt her eyebrow twitch. It must have been wonderful to be so at peace with oneself.

Only while she was in that endless room could Yukari openly contemplate her curiosity. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, if just once, she could see how it might have felt to be Minamo Kurosawa. No one ever disrespected Nyamo or referred to her as though she were inconsequential.

The only problem was figuring out how to be like Nyamo without actually becoming like her. Yukari had attempted it before in the past by trying out for school sports and being cordial to other students. All endeavors had ended in humiliation and ultimate failure. There was something more to Nyamo that she simply wasn't grasping. Something that was driving her crazy.

Yukari let go of her apprehensions. Whatever happened now, no one had to know. It was just one time after all.

On her hands and knees she crept up onto the bed and crouched above the other woman to straddle her.

Nyamo shifted and frowned slightly as she felt a weight settle itself against her lower stomach. Squinting at first, she was able to blink her eyes open and focus them on the woman sitting above her. The sight brought a gentle grin to her lips. Yukari had come.

"Hey…" she whispered. Aside from opening her eyes she made no other movement. She knew why she was there on that bed. This encounter between Yukari and herself had been years in the making.

"Hey…" Yukari replied and rested her hands to Nyamo's stomach. Just as before when they had come into this situation, there was no reason for any words to be spoken between them. She leaned over and touched her lips to Nyamo's, knowing that Nyamo would not push her away. At the moment she was feeling more curious than anything else. She wanted to discover more about this dark-haired woman who had ended up making such a deep impact in her life. That discovery would begin with an investigation of sexual tensions.

Nyamo laid still and accepted the kiss gently. It never even occurred to her that she should have asked for an explanation. Yukari was stand-offish and very defensive of herself. If Nyamo had questioned her, then Yukari would have gotten angry and shut off. The only way to really learn something about Yukari was to remain passive and wait for Yukari to approach, which now she had.

Sitting up from the kiss, Yukari brought her hands to the top button of Nyamo's shirt. One at a time the buttons were undone until she could slip her hands under the white material and part it to the side. Nyamo's shapely body became exposed to her and she observed it with the keen interest of someone searching for an object, but having no idea of what that object was.

As she looked at Nyamo, she wondered if there was a definite, sexual attraction. Nyamo did have a very nice body. It was lithe, yet firm and sinewy. However, Nyamo was also a woman and Yukari had never been into women. Once had she gone to Nyamo with the implicit desire to have sex with her. It hadn't been because of Nyamo's gender. It hadn't even been about sex. It had been about Nyamo.

She traced her fingers up along the sides of Nyamo's body, skimming over the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, finally to rest at the full swells of her breasts. At the peak of each fleshy endowment she took a hardened tip between her thumb and index fingers and compressed them gently.

Nyamo closed her eyes and took in a soft, but sharp breath, sliding her hands up under her pillow to keep herself from touching Yukari. The hands exploring her body were tentative. No matter how much she may have wanted to give them a little guidance, this was Yukari's turn to take control, both of herself and her surroundings. By remaining completely passive, Nyamo in turn wanted to let Yukari know that it was all right. Yukari could do whatever she wanted and there would be no repercussions.

Yukari slid her knees outwards so that she could snake her arms beneath Nyamo's shoulders. With their chests pressing together, she lifted up on her elbows and brought Nyamo back to her for a more definitive kiss. Their lips parted into the connection and Yukari tilted her head to take advantage of the admittance that was allowed to her. The form of Nyamo's lips as well as their taste was very distinctive. Several moments into the kiss, Yukari came to the decision that she was indeed attracted to the athlete, though the attraction was very selective. Yukari was not gay and she was not into women. She was into Nyamo. She brought one hand up and combed it back through the shorter length of the other woman's hair.

It had been so long since Nyamo had felt Yukari's hand sifting into her hair. She hadn't often thought about the sensation, but feeling it now made her realize how much she had missed her friend. She could feel the path of those fingers as they made their way to the back of her head, there to tighten gently. Amid the kiss, her lungs finally began to strain and it wasn't until the very last second that Yukari broke the connection and shifted slightly to the side. Both of them were left breathing heavily.

"Nyamo…" Yukari whispered against the side of her friend's neck. The hand that she had so insistently held into Nyamo's hair was retracted and trailed further down the athlete's body. When her finger tips reached the lower portion of Nyamo's stomach, her mind suddenly had a difficult time creating the sensations. She had never gotten to touch Nyamo and didn't really know what it would have been like. She didn't even know what it was like to _be_ touched intimately by Nyamo. The first and last time that they had been together, she hadn't been interested in touching the woman directly. She had wanted the safety and security that Nyamo provided, and nothing more. No emotional connection, no woman-to-woman contact.

Nyamo shifted her legs further apart in a silent invitation for Yukari's hand to slip between them. It would be just like Yukari to skip the foreplay and get right to the point. Instead of frustrating, Nyamo found this aspect of her personality to be rather cute. Instant gratification was what Yukari had always been about. As Yukari's hand slid below the line of her belly button, she felt the touch come to a gradual stop. At any other time she wouldn't have been able to tell what was wrong. Her existence in that room was the only thing allowing her insight into the normally enigmatic Yukari Tanizaki.

"It's all right…" she whispered and turned her head to kiss her partner on the cheek. Yukari wasn't the first woman that Nyamo had been with and there would be no trouble in recreating sensations. "I know…"

As Yukari felt those legs spread wider she cast her gaze down to watch her fingers descend those last few inches. She didn't care that she had never really touched a woman before. This was her time for discovery, both of Nyamo and herself. She was attracted to Nyamo and hoped that touching her, really touching her as only an intimate lover could, would piece together the puzzle that had confused and angered her for so long. She would become Nyamo's lover. Her girlfriend. They would proclaim their love for each other and then everything would suddenly make sense. Her middle finger reached the cleft of Nyamo's vulva and slipped just between the folds, the rest of her hand sliding down to cup the mound in its entirety.

Nyamo made a conscious effort to keep her hips from rocking upwards against those fingers. Her toes curled into the bed sheets and all at once her breathing pattern became shallow. She didn't know why the softness of Yukari's hand came as a surprise. She couldn't even figure out whether becoming Yukari's lover was an absolute dream come true, but those fingers did feel so good. Then she remembered that it wasn't Yukari she was feeling. Yukari had never touched her in real life. The fingers that she was feeling were those of another woman. A memory to compensate for what she didn't know.

Yukari felt somewhat detached as she began to move her middle finger back and forth along the stimulus point of Nyamo's body. She watched the woman's behavior transform. Nyamo's cheeks grew red, her breathing picked up, and very gently her hips began to jerk. Yukari herself could feel nothing because she knew nothing. Her mind could not simply create sensations from scratch.

This couldn't have been what she was looking for. There had to have been something more to Nyamo, not just a vague sense of sexual attraction. She hadn't always seen Nyamo in a romantic light, and that wasn't what she saw her in now. There was something deeper about her that Yukari had never experienced, and Yukari realized that she was approaching her problem entirely wrong.

"No…" she frowned and took her hand away.

Nyamo's eyes peeled open. The wonderful stimulation of Yukari's hand had disappeared and at first she felt like screaming. The urge was fleeting, however, and it didn't take her long to relax back against the sheets. If it didn't feel right, then it didn't feel right. She had no choice but to let Yukari figure things out for herself. The room and everything in it was something of Yukari's own creation and she couldn't offer any input that Yukari didn't already know.

Yukari shifted back up to straddle her friend's waist.

"I thought that was it….but it's not…"

"I understand," Nyamo sighed and canted her head with a gentle smile. "It wasn't like I wanted to have sex with you back then either."

"What is it then, about you..." Yukari whispered and let herself down to rest her cheek against Nyamo's chest. Her hands smoothed up along the side of the athlete's ribcage before sliding back down. Smooth skin, so soft and welcoming to the touch. "….that I can't stand….and I can't stop thinking about…"

She would have thought that her unconscious obsession with Nyamo was romantic in nature. Movies and books always depicted romance as two people having hidden feelings for each other. The two people thought often of each other, spent a lot of time together, and sometimes didn't declare their love until years down the road. The critical moments involved the two people confessing how they had loved each other for so long but had never had the courage to say it until then. Then one said 'I love you', then the other said 'I love you too', and then they lived happily ever after wrapped in each other's arms and hearts.

That wasn't what Yukari felt with Nyamo at all. Just the thought of saying 'I love you' to the same girl she had spent so many years tormenting made her feel weird. Saying 'I love you' at all was something that was very much un-Yukari like.

Something on the other side of the bed suddenly glinted amongst the tangle of bed sheets. Yukari was pulled from her thoughts and focused on the object blandly. It had been there the entire time lurking at the back of her mind, something she hadn't yet considered. Slowly she extended her arm and was just able to curl her fingers around the object.

The item was slender and metallic. Yukari lifted back up and brought it into both of her hands for examination.

"This is…." she muttered to herself.

A combat knife, plain, simple, and serrated. It didn't even have a proper handle but instead was one flat piece of metal, more wide at one end than the other. It was a cold representation of something sadistic and cruel. Yukari turned the knife over in her hand before finally grabbing it by the unpointed end. She remembered very well what she had thought of Nyamo in their younger days, and it most certainly had not been love.

"I used to wonder what would happen if I had used this….Maybe that was the problem all along." Her lip curled at the thought. The letter. That was the moment in time when her relationship to Nyamo turned completely around, or so she had thought. She had spent so much time comparing herself to Nyamo. She wondered what would have happened if she had exposed Nyamo's weakness to the world. With the knife in her hand she raised it up into a stabbing position. "I should have—should have told them…about you…"

Nyamo didn't even blink as she watched the descent of that arm. Yukari's clenched hand drove the thick knife straight into her chest before yanking it back up. Left in the wake of the knife's jagged blade was a deep laceration just beneath the ridge of her chest cavity. Blood instantly pooled at the surface of the gash before spilling out over the torn ridges of skin, down Nyamo's side to soak into the sheets. Nyamo looked up to her attacker with nothing more than an expression of sad regret.

Yukari had watched her own hand shove the knife directly into Nyamo's chest. The tip of the knife had punctured the chest cavity and torn through the resistance of skin and muscle only to be jerked back, and yet Nyamo had hardly even flinched. For some reason Yukari didn't regret her actions. It only made her angry that Nyamo didn't even seem to care. Suddenly she was filled with a violent exhilaration.

"Why don't you try to stop me?" Yukari demanded. Anyone else would have shoved her off and probably beat the life out of her for having treated them so carelessly. It angered her that Nyamo simply tolerated it like some kind of a willing, sympathetic target. In an attempt to get the athlete to fight back, she arced her hand down again and embedded the knife straight into the woman's gut. She wanted Nyamo to lose her temper and lash out. She wanted to see that side of the sparkling super star athlete that she knew was there. Nyamo couldn't have been that great.

Nyamo only winced and looked down at the hilt of the knife sticking up from her stomach.

"I don't mind."

"What're you stupid or something? Look at what I'm doing!" Yukari sent the knife down again, then again, and then. Her primary intent was to make the woman suffer. Her efforts went entirely to ruining Nyamo's wonderful existence while at the same time augmenting her own status above her. Positive that she had gained complete control, she reached up and closed her free hand around her friend's throat. The next descent of the knife ended up with the serrated blade caught between two of Nyamo's ribs.

Nyamo still offered no protest. The blade hurt, and she hated it every time that she had to watch it sink into her skin. Yukari was wounding her, and yet she knew that there was a reason for it. While Yukari had been so intent on figuring her out, she had done her own bit of wondering about Yukari.

"I felt sorry for you."

"Shut up!" Yukari's voice rose to a screaming pitch. The last thing that she ever wanted from anyone was pity. The ones who pitied her always made her feel inferior as though she was a mindless individual who couldn't be helped. Her very first assumption about Nyamo must have been right. There in that detention hall, young Minamo had tried to sympathize with her, and under no circumstances had Yukari allowed it.

"You were all alone…"

"I never needed your pity! I never needed _you_!" The stabbing gave way to frantic slashing as Yukari began to sob angrily. She didn't even want to think that maybe in some way she had been emotionally dependant on Nyamo. She wanted to say that she had hated Nyamo all along and had simply been humoring herself with her presence. Minamo Kurosawa had been her toy to play with when she felt the need. Nothing more. With the knife she set upon Nyamo like an artist to her canvas. One, two swipes across, others vertical. Layers of skin began to peel and chucks of Nyamo's flesh were sent spattering against the ground.

"You were jealous…"

"That's a lie! _I_ was the one who could destroy you! _I _had the control! You had to put up with me because if you didn't then I'd tell everyone that you were fuckin' dyke!" Yukari was covered in blood up to her arms and all over her chest and thighs. The red mess of meat and bone had scattered everywhere on the bed, on the headboard, and on the floor. Nyamo lay supine beneath, completely gutted. The entire length of her torso was unrecognizable as being a section of the human body. Yukari didn't understand it. The more she attacked Nyamo, the more she wished that Nyamo would stop her. She couldn't stop herself. She would continue until Nyamo saw the truth about their relationship, or at least what she perceived to be the truth.

"I tolerated you because I wanted to," Nyamo met Yukari's gaze with unnerving composure. If she hadn't liked Yukari then she wouldn't have volunteered to spend so much time with her, regardless of what Yukari knew. It was true that Yukari could have damaged her reputation and her life, but if Nyamo absolutely hadn't been able to stand the girl, then she wouldn't have put up with her for anything, no matter the consequences. Without a doubt, Yukari knew all of this but had refused to admit even one bit of it.

"You're a fucking liar! No one would want to tolerate me! _I can't even tolerate myself!"_ When no more of Nyamo's exterior could be carved, Yukari reached down and turned her insides out. The remnants of inner organs became mush between her fingers as she tore them out and strew them across the sheets. She hated Nyamo for the kindness that she had shown. Nyamo should have hated her like everyone else. At least then it would have made sense.

Finally she threw the knife down and raked her hands back through her hair. She was sobbing so hard that her lungs began to spasm and she couldn't control the harsh cries that wrenched themselves from her throat. At last she had admitted herself aloud. The plague in her mind had come clean.

Nyamo brought one hand out from under her pillow and rested it to the top of Yukari's thigh.

"I was always waiting for you to talk to me."

"I didn't know what to do…I thought that—that if I could just…do something like you, but I couldn't figure anything out! I hated…everything…"

"You never told me."

"I couldn't tell _anyone_!I had to keep up! I had to be confident and look good when I didn't feel good at all! I couldn't let you win and it killed me! I don't know you did it and every day acting so fuckin' great, always quiet and modest and popular like you're some kind of super hero!" Yukari knew that she was rambling. Half of her words were incoherent and she was doing little more than blurting out random pieces of the things that she had tried so hard to ignore. Much of her younger days she had blocked from her memory, and yet all at once those disremembered emotions came rushing back.

"Yukari…" Nyamo took in a gentle breath, her torn lungs gurgling as more blood flooded into them. Above them, the window was beginning to let in more light. It wouldn't be long before the entire room was washed out and disappeared. "You didn't know everything about me…You never knew what or how much you meant to me back then."

"What…?" Yukari lifted her head and sniffed. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand left a long smear of redness across the middle of her face. "What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you here."

Yukari didn't even have time to respond before the room was suddenly filled with a soft glow. The glow turned a bright white, and everything became engulfed.

* * *

**Note:** I was lacking creativity. Eiko is the name of the woman who had dinner with Nyamo and Yukari in episode 19. Anyways…Spring break is over. Not sure how often I'll be able to update this story, but I'll try. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **Several people have asked how many chapters I anticipate this story to have. The story was mostly planned out from the beginning. How many chapters it will take to complete, I'm not sure.

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**Chapter 21**

"_Looking for _this, _Nyamo?"_

"_Wha—! Where did you find that!"_

"_Oh, I have my methods."_

"_Yukari! Give it back!"_

* * *

It was nearing five in the morning. A seat in the waiting room had opened up and Nyamo had been occupying it for the past several hours. Her back and neck were aching and she had leaned her head back against the wall in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. Her eyes were closed but she was no where near falling asleep.

Thoughts churned through her mind like products on an inspection belt. Yukari, Yukio, the car accident, the old man, the vice principle, dance clubs, drugs…She was still having a hard time believing that she had come across Yukari at all. The entire thing made her want to think that it had been a set up. Coincidences did happen. Then again, she had always taken comfort in the belief that there were no true accidents.

"Are you Ms. Kurosawa?"

A male voice came from in front of her and brought her from her musings. She opened her eyes to see a man in a collared shirt, black pants, and a white doctor's coat. The man was tall with cropped black hair and dark eyes, leaning slightly on a cane in his right hand. He looked to be in his mid forties and was rather attractive in the face. Tucked under his left arm was a patient chart. Immediately Nyamo shot up from her seat.

"Is Yukari all right?"

The doctor shifted the chart from under his arm and opened it in his hands with a sigh. This was one of the many things he regretted about his job. Years go he had gone to medical school with idealistic intentions of being able to help people. At the end of every year since then, he realized that there was no glamour in working with the ill and dying. There was no room for false hope where hope could not exist, and there was no point in sugar coating the future for those who had none.

"Ms. Tanizaki…They're cleaning her up right now."

"And?" Nyamo's tone grew impatient. Whenever someone didn't get right to the point it could have only meant that they were hiding something. "How is she doing?"

"We've done what we can for now," the doctor replied and flipped through the procedure notes in Yukari's file. He then closed the file and crossed his hands in front of him. His gaze and tone were both matter-of-fact like a weatherman reporting the daily forecast. "I can't tell you that her complete recovery is guaranteed. The blunt trauma to her head caused inflammation of the tissue surrounding her brain, the dura mater to be precise. As of yet we're not sure how severe the damage to her brain itself is. It may be severe, and it may be nothing at all."

Nyamo felt her breathing grow deeper. Her cheeks became hot and she had to bite her tongue to try and keep herself from crying. If Yukari didn't recover, it would almost be just as devastating if she did and wasn't the same as she used to be.

The doctor did his best to ignore the reaction he could see beginning to form on the woman's face. He would have been able to enjoy his job a lot more if medical science didn't include dealing with actual people.

"Her right arm is broken, and an x-ray of her chest revealed fractures in three of her ribs. We managed to set them, but later surgery may be required to ensure that they don't heal at odd angles and protrude against one of her lungs. I read over the form you filled out. You said that she was in a car accident?"

"I wasn't there…but yes, she was," Nyamo nodded.

"Ah. That explains her legs. As you may have been able to tell, both of her legs were broken, and I would be lying to say that the damage isn't considerable. Her left leg sustained one significant fracture of the tibia. That should heal within a few months. Her right leg, however, was broken in several places. Pieces of its fibula were missing and what pieces we didn't have, we had to compensate with grafts. Currently, the leg is being held together with pins until the bones conform to those grafts."

"So she'll be able to walk, right?"

The doctor took in a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Again, I'm not making any guarantees. The bones were shattered. Whether or not she'll be able to use her right leg again depends on how well her body adjusts to grafts. Either way, considering her current state, it's going to take months of physical therapy before she's even able to stand on her own two feet without assistance."

Nyamo felt herself sinking back down into her chair. She brought her hands up and pushed the heels of her palms against her eyes, no longer able to stifle the flow of tears. It couldn't happen that Yukari would spend the rest of her life in a wheel chair or on crutches. If that happened then the majority of her competitive potential would be brought to a screeching halt. No more relay races, no more wrestling for the TV remote, no more dancing, no more swimming, no more of anything that required rough housing or speed. For Yukari that meant there would be next to nothing left.

The doctor shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, bringing his cane up to hook onto his forearm. He reopened Yukari's chart and skimmed over it one more time to make sure that he was relaying accurate findings. When Nyamo made no reply, he cleared his throat and continued softly.

"I'm afraid that's not all. Aside from being malnourished and underweight—um…The nurse did tell you about the results of her blood work?"

"I know, I know…" Nyamo sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. As much as she wanted to know the details of Yukari's condition, there were also some things that she didn't want to hear about. She would have rather ignored the extent of Yukari's drug use. Somehow she considered it a failure on her own part.

"The puncture wounds on the backs of her hands have been stitched up. Unfortunately the veins have already been over exploited and one in her left arm has collapsed. A collapsed vein is irreversible, but if Ms. Tanizaki chooses to pursue it, we may be able to correct it surgically. As for the—'substances' themselves, her results came back with—"

"Don't tell me," Nyamo interrupted him and stood up. "Just…I would rather hear it from her…If that's all right."

The doctor nodded and shifted his cane back into his right hand.

"I understand. Let me just forewarn you that the results were not encouraging. In a few days we'll be transporting her to our drug rehab department where she'll stay for about two weeks. During those two weeks I would advise you to keep from visiting her."

"What?" Nyamo frowned angrily. She looked up met the doctor's gaze to see just how serious he was being. He couldn't have really thought that she would just leave Yukari there in the hospital for two whole weeks without even a single visit. It hadn't even occurred to her that she should leave the hospital at all unless Yukari was coming with her. "What the Hell do you mean by that?"

"It's for your own benefit and for hers. With the type of drugs that had have weaved their way into her system, it's going to get ugly when they're weaving out. Drugs will be the only thing on her mind, and if you pay her a visit I doubt that she'll do anything more than beg and plead with you to supply her with another hook up."

It had happened before that a patient's recovery was inhibited by a sympathetic family member who would occasionally sneak in with something at the patient's plea. Due to higher security measures, such instances were less frequent, but still there was the emotional toll to consider. Withdrawal was never a graceful thing. Often times it was violent, and in rare cases even fatal when a person's body simply couldn't adjust.

"I'll take my chances," Nyamo replied curtly and brushed past the doctor on her way from the waiting room. She couldn't just leave Yukari alone for two weeks. Someone had to be there, even if it meant seeing Yukari reduced to a whimpering mess. By now Nyamo was sure that nothing else could be worse than what she had already seen.

The doctor turned and held his hand out to the woman's retreating back.

"Wait. There's something else you should know."

"What is it?" Nyamo stopped and looked over her shoulder. She didn't want to hear anything else right now. She just wanted to see Yukari and believe that everything would be fine. Instead at every corner she was being met with pessimism and facts that weighed against Yukari's chance at recovery.

"About Ms. Tanizaki…" The doctor approached her steadily, his expression stern, but calm. "I'm not sure if you were aware of this, and if you weren't then I don't want to get your hopes either up or down. Right now her condition is very fragile and we're not—"

"Would you just tell me?"

"Well…" he took in a deep breath. For a moment he wondered if he should have said anything at all. Like everything else regarding this current case, nothing was a guaranteed success. Nonetheless, he met the woman's gaze and lowered his voice gently. "She's pregnant."

---------------------

The dealer slumped at the base of an aluminum door. The door was one of a dozen like itself located along the top floor hallway of an apartment building. The floor of the hallway consisted of brownish, vinyl tiles that had been white many years ago. Age and disregard had left the tiles cracked and covered with mystery strains ranging in color from red to black to yellow. At the end of the hall, water was leaking out through minute cracks in the foundation. A thin puddle had formed and expanded all the way down the length of the hallway to the stairs.

It had taken the dealer two hours to reach the building. With the use of only one leg and half of his body nearly shredded of its skin, he was surprised that he had been able to make it anywhere at all. Going to the hospital had been out of the question. His information would have been pulled up and so would his previous criminal records. There was no way that he was going back to jail. He would take his chances elsewhere, and that decision had landed him there in that hallway.

One trembling arm he lifted and pounded against the door.

"Kiyoshi! Open up!"

After a few seconds with no response he banged against the door again. There was no where else that he could go right now. If no one was home then he would have to curl up and wait. He was still pounding on the door when suddenly it was yanked open.

On the other side, the man who had opened the door stood with an expectant smile. Looking about in his sixties, he was stocky and wore a dirty white beater and baggy jeans. His light orange hair had more of a grey hue to it and had been spiked with its own natural grease. The most distinguishing feature of his expression was his lips that had a way of curling back into maleficent, cat-like grin. On the back of his neck was a tattoo of three conjoined rings.

"Hey! I've been—" Instantly his grin would fade when he set his gaze upon the mess of a man laying at his door step. "Holy shit! What happened to you? And where's Yukari?" Yukari was the only reason that he looked forward to seeing the dealer in the first place. They had made several trades in the past. He gave the dealer a few sheets or poppers, and in return he got to spend twenty minutes with his girl.

"Don't even say that bitch's name!" the dealer snarled and dragged himself up to his good leg. He braced his hand to Kiyoshi's shoulder and limped inside. "You gotta help me out. I need some mescaline or somethin'!"

"Whoa, hold on!" Kiyoshi put his arm around the man's waist and guided him into the main room of the apartment.

The apartment was furnished on a very vague level. There were no electronics, and the only furniture in the living room was a beaten love seat, a futon mattress in the corner, and a wooden crate in the center. Around the wooden crate were several towels that had been folded to serve as seats. On the far side of the living room, laying on the floor against the wall was a girl of about ten. The girl didn't stir, though she was breathing steadily and her eyes were half open. It was winter, but she was clad in a summer blue school uniform.

Kiyoshi lead the dealer over to the love seat and helped him to sit down.

"You need more than meds—you need a doctor! What the Hell you come here for?"

"Because you _are_ a doctor," the dealer slumped length wise along the near-springless cushions of the sectional. He yanked at his shredded shirt and tore it to the side to reveal his torso. Blood seeped freely from patches of exposed muscle and he made it a point to avert his gaze upwards.

"Not for this!" Kiyoshi went pale to the sight of the man's body, most of which was exposed through what was left of his clothes. His credentials as a doctor all depended on the definition of the word. He wasn't certified and had never even gone to school. All that he knew, he had learned in a prison clinic.

"Just shut up and get me something!"

"Dammit, tell me what's going on!"

Kiyoshi crossed over to the small kitchen area and began rummaging through drawers. In no way did the kitchen look like a place meant to prepare food. The sink was filled with surgical tools ranging from forceps to titanium screws to oscillating double blades. Every inch of counter space was taken up by trays, towels, and piles of papers and receipts. The entire area was marked with hints of old blood spatter and smelled strongly of ether.

"I gotta get outta here, that's what. This place is fucked up." The dealer closed a hand over his eyes and rested his head back against the arm of the sofa.

"It was Yukio wasn't it? What'd I tell you about him?" From the drawer beside the small fridge, Kiyoshi brought out a crumpled paper towel. He unwrapped the bundle as he made his way back into the living room then held it down to the injured man.

"I said shut up! I'm goin' back home…" The dealer shifted his hand from over his eyes as he heard Kiyoshi approach. When he saw what was being offered to him he groaned and curled his lip. "Tell me this isn't all you have."

"I'm not a pharmacist! You gonna crack one or not?"

Revealed in the wrinkled paper towel were three small, plastic bottles of amyl nitrate. The dealer snatched up one of the bottles and cracked it open beneath his nose, eagerly inhaling the vapors. It only took about fifteen seconds before his head began to spin and his legs seemed to lose half their weight. He let his head fall back against the arm rest and stared at the ceiling.

"This is Yukari's fault."

"Where is she did you say?" Kiyoshi dropped the other two bottles onto the couch with the dealer before disappearing into a small back room. He was no where near well enough equipped to deal with the case that had just been presented to him. Routinely he could do abortions, gun shot wounds, and gashes depending on the depth and location. The man sprawled on his couch was in need of much more than what he had to offer.

"I said I don't wanna talk about her!"

"You gonna tell me what's going on or not?" the flunky doctor's words rose from the other room.

"Long story…Yukari just went crazy behind the wheel and almost killed me. I blacked out, and when I came around, Yukio was right there."

"Damn! I told you he'd find you out sooner or later!" Kiyoshi returned to the living room with his arms full of medical supplies. Among the bandages and bottles of peroxide were several pouches and plastic boxes. "Did he break anything? I don't have stuff for casts."

"He didn't touch me! This is from the accident….Think my ankle's broken or somethin'. The left one." The dealer lifted his head and watched as Kiyoshi crouched on the ground by the sofa.

Kiyoshi dumped the items from his arms onto the floor and sorted through them until he came to a small, grey box. He flipped open the lid of the box and brought out a syringe and needle. Along with the works was a glass vial that was barely even half full with a transparent fluid.

Suddenly alarmed, the dealer pushed himself into a higher sitting position.

"H-hey! What'd I tell you about those!"

"Would you relax? You know I always clean my stuff."

"Bullshit! You're not puttin' that thing in me!"

"You're fucked up," Kiyoshi sighed. "It's no wonder you were always dirt poor before you got Yukari." He replaced the syringe and vial back into the box and looked around for something else that he could use to lull the dealer into a deeper state of relaxation. A red leather pouch held the solution to his problem within it, but as he lifted it he eyed it warily. "So about Yukio…What happened?"

"I dunno. Some woman showed up and beat the shit outta him." With the needle of the syringe safely out of the sight, the dealer relaxed back against the couch cushions once more.

"You're kiddin'. A woman?"

"Swear to god. I saw the entire thing. I wanna say they knew each other."

"Probably another crack whore he screwed over." Kiyoshi loosened the top of the red pouch and emptied the contents into the palm of his hand. It was a glass salt shaker with the top sealed with plastic wrap and a rubber band. Inside the shaker was a stiff, grey powder. It wasn't quite the consistency of powdered sugar, but it was more fine than sand.

"This one didn't seem like the type. She was a fuckin' dobie."

"I get it. So now your ass is saved and you're just gonna tuck tail and run back to Osaka?"

"I don't care! It's better than staying here."

"If it's so bad then why'd you come here in the first place?"

"That's my business."

"Whatever. Your business is your business. Now sit up and take some of this." The doctor knelt up and opened the salt shaker towards the other man. "Don't take much. Nothing more than a taste. This is the wicked stuff."

The dealer sat forward and dabbed his little finger into the shaker. A small bit of the residue coated the tip of the finger which he then quickly popped into his mouth. He didn't even think to ask what it was. As long as it wasn't a needle or a disease then he didn't really care as long as it took him out.

Kiyoshi resealed the shaker to slip back into its pouch.

"I tell ya…If this has anything to do with your brother then—"

"Shut the Hell up about my brother!" With the amyl having dulled his senses against the pain, the dealer shot forward and grabbed Kiyoshi by the front of his shirt. The effects of the powder were almost instantaneous. His eyes were tense and his body felt wired as though he was holding an electrical cord between his teeth. "You have no idea! No fuckin idea so just back off!"

Kiyoshi raised his hands innocently and waited for the grip on his shirt to relax.

The dealer slumped back in a fit of twitches before his body locked. The wave took him up and washed him out, causing his heart to beat furiously. Every detail of his existence was suddenly amplified, and just like a computer trying to do too many things at once, his brain slowed down. After a few minutes he went limp and his lips parted stupidly.

"Your life, kid. Waste it however ya want…" the doctor shook his head and set to work on the nameless vagabond.

* * *

**Note:** I apologize for the delays between chapters. It's hard during the week, especially now that I'm preparing for a study abroad term in Japan. :sigh: I hope to have this story completed before I leave. I also wanted to say something about the original characters that I have so far used in this story. I admit that original characters tend to irk me. The ones in this story do have their histories, but they exist solely as supplements to the stories of the AzuDai characters. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **You know you're sick when you've got your face in a public toilet and don't even care when the last time it was flushed was. Nausea sucks.

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"_I'm home!" Yukari exclaimed as she pushed open the front door of her house._

_After kicking her shoes off at the threshold she entered into the living room and tossed her book bag onto the couch. The day had been nothing special for her. It was just another day in the long line of days that had come before it, just as easily swept under the mat and forgotten. Life was mainly in the details, but Yukari lived hers in general patterns. For her to think back over the past eight hours meant to recall only that sometime between leaving her home that morning and returning that evening, she had done something that she wished she hadn't. _

_Past the living room was the kitchen. Her mother stood at the kitchen sink cleaning off the last of the dishes. Hearing the announcement, the typical slam of the door, and the thud of book bag hitting the couch, she leaned back slightly and looked out into the adjoining room. _

"_We're in here," she called above the din of running water._

_Anyone who happened to catch sight of Mrs. Tanizaki would know immediately that Yukari was hers. The mother was still young with keen brown eyes and a head full of wavy russet hair. The daughter resembled her almost like a genetic carbon copy, both of physical features and of personality. The only differences that existed between them were the type that everyone could recognize, but no one could put their finger right on. Their facial expressions were the same, even if their faces were slightly different. They seemed to share one personality that was expressed dissimilarly only as a consequence of having been given shape by two separate life experiences. Both of them were stubborn and difficult to deal with on a bad day, and having these two volatile identities living under one roof often lead to clashes between them._

_Yukari's father sat at the kitchen table finishing up the last of his evening meal. By comparison to his co workers he was not a very large man, though he was sturdy and broad shouldered for his size. It was rare that he arrived home before his daughter did, and that it had happened this time was not out of good luck. He was still wearing his formal business suit, a dark one that was one half of a shade lighter than black. He had been allowed to leave work early only because he was giving a lecture later that evening. The amount of time that he actually got to spend with his family was not very much, though considering the two particular females that made up his family, he didn't see that as an entirely bad thing._

_Yukari walked into the kitchen and stopped with one hand on her hip. Looking back and forth between her parents, she could sense a definite tension in the air. Her mother's back was stiff and her father didn't even turn around in his seat to greet her. She must have entered in the midst of another fight. _

_She had never really cared about the on-going problems between her parents. The only time that it really affected her was when their fighting kept her up at night. Sometimes she wished that they would go ahead and separate so that she wouldn't have to deal with it. Just watching her parents do anything was like watching the carpet to see if it would grow. It was beyond hope that they would ever change._

"_How was your day, Yukari?" Mr. Tanizaki spoke softly without looking up from the newspaper in front of him. He loved his daughter in his own way that most people didn't understand. He wasn't very affectionate and for the most part stayed out of Yukari's business. He wanted to express his love by giving her enough space to make her own decisions and learn independence._

_Yukari sighed and rolled her eyes._

"_Fantastic. I have some homework to do, but I think I'm just gonna go upstairs and play video games, maybe shoot myself in the foot or something." After thirteen years of dealing with her father's indirect speech quirks, she knew that when he asked how her day was he wasn't _really_ asking how it went. _

"_As long as you know what you need to do," came the calm reply._

"_Of course!" Yukari dismissed the entire interaction with an arrogant smirk as she swiveled on her heel. There was no use in trying to talk to her parents after they had been fighting. She left the kitchen with thoughts of doing nothing but playing video games and watching TV until late at night. It was true that she did have homework, but of course she could just get up early the next morning and do it before class. The notion was justification enough. Knowing full well that she would sleep in anyway, she headed up the stairs to her room and slammed the door behind her._

_Mrs. Tanizaki's eyes went wide with disbelief when she heard her husband's rather careless response. She turned from the sink and glared disdainfully at the man._

"_What in the world are you teaching that girl, letting her talk like that? You should tell her that school work comes first before anything!" _

"_I'm teaching her to think for herself. Once she starts to face the consequences, she'll get responsible real quick."_

"_And how long has she been facing the consequences? How many times have her teachers called us with complaints about her behavior? She's thirteen already!"_

"_That's right. She's only thirteen," Mr. Tanizaki sighed and folded his newspaper to set aside. Right now he didn't have time to listen to his wife get riled up over every little thing like she usually did. He pushed up from his chair and gave his tie a last minute straightening. "Give her a little more time to figure herself out. I'm not sending her off to that disciplinary camp."_

"_That camp would have been the best thing for her! Other girls her age don't need to be told to—"_

"_You've seen her last report card. She's doing fine."_

_Mr. Tanizaki went out to the living room and grabbed his briefcase up from behind the couch. Mrs. Tanizaki stayed right on his heels the entire time. Such was the way in which their relationship worked. Their marriage was measured in conflicts. If it wasn't time then it was money. If it wasn't money then it was Yukari. Always it was Mrs. Tanizaki working to evoke a reaction from her husband. She would hit every one of his buttons until she got him just as worked up as she was. Mr. Tanizaki was naturally a very laid back and collected man, but if there was one person who knew how to ruin his demeanor, it was his wife._

"_Her grades aren't the issue! What is it with you anyway? Your daughter is right in front of you but sometimes I wonder if you even see her at all!"_

"_Hey!" Mr. Tanizaki's voice rose suddenly and he whirled around to face his wife. Nothing else got his blood boiling like talking about his work schedule. The long hours were not something that he could help. "I work hard for this family to so don't start complaining about how I'm never—"_

"_That's not what I'm talking about either! What do you do when you hear of the trouble that Yukari gets into at school?"_

"_She's still a girl! She's going to—"_

"_You shrug and expect the problem to correct itself!"_

"_It's better than screaming at her for every little thing like you! You hound her enough for the both of us over things that make no difference! My god, just let her know what's right and wrong and—"_

"_And what? Wait for her to wake up one day and realize—"_

"_What do you want me to do then? Come home every night and grind the rules of life into her head? She'll learn them better if she learns them on her own!"_

"_If she ever learns them at all!"_

"_If I treated Yukari like you did then she would be too afraid to do anything!"_

"_But that's not the case is it? You were there when her teacher called the other day about the bottle rockets."_

"_So what does that tell you about the effectiveness of your disciplinary technique? Obviously, yelling at her for not making her bed didn't teach her what would happen if she set bottle rockets off at school! But she certainly knows now!" _

"_Dammit, you do this with everything! Don't you even care enough to step in and interfere once in a while? I should have listened to your brother when he said that you were hardly capable of pulling more weight than your own!"_

_Mr. Tanizaki bristled suddenly. He glared and slapped his wife across the face as though to erase her comment from existence.. Normally he was not at all a violent man, but the subject of families could be a very touchy thing in an arranged marriage._

_Mrs. Tanizaki recoiled with a gasp and brought her hand to her cheek. She could recall only a couple of times in her life that she had ever been struck. Her husband was not the type to respond with physical aggression. Knowing this, she refused to fear him, but nonetheless she wasn't about to push her luck._

_In this manner, the argument was resolved. Mr. Tanizaki's glare softened to a stoic frown and he turned to make his way to the front door. As much as this most recent argument seemed to center around her Yukari, he was getting the feeling that Yukari wasn't the issue at all._

"_We'll talk about this later. Make sure that Yukari doesn't stay up too late."_

"_Just….get out."_

_Sitting quietly at the top of the stairs, Yukari frowned as she watched her father leave the house and her mother disappear back into the kitchen. She couldn't understand either of them. It didn't make sense to her that they had stayed together for so long when they clearly weren't happy with each other. It must have been because of her. Her father wouldn't abandon his wife when there was their daughter to consider._

"…_Whatever," she muttered softly and stood back up. Their misery was their own fault. She could never imagine herself spending more than five minutes with someone she didn't like, much less living under the same roof with them. It would never happen. _

_One day if she were to get married, the man would have to meet all of her criteria and expect nothing more from her than she was willing to give. He would have to be good looking, hard working, and most importantly, rich. The best case scenario would be if he were a wealthy business man who spent most of his time away on trips. It would be a marriage without all of those annoying requirements like cooking and cleaning every night. _

_She returned to her room and flopped back onto her bed. When she closed her eyes she tried to conjure up an image of what her ideal husband would look and be like._ _Tall, maybe rugged. A mature Japanese man who would be out going and dangerous, but who would also be willing to do things like play video games with her. The only problem was finding a man who could tolerate her eccentric personality. That was step number one before anything else, and so far she hadn't even found one person who could do that._

* * *

Nyamo leaned back against the wall beside the door of Yukari's recovery room. After her confrontation with the doctor, she had rushed to the nearest bathroom where she had barely made it to the toilet before getting sick. The news of Yukari's pregnancy had finally done it.

Yukari was pregnant by five weeks. As of yet, the doctor had made it clear that it was too soon to do any celebrating, if the pregnancy was considered a good thing. If Yukari were to go through detox, the trauma to her system would possibly be too much for her body to handle and she would miscarry. She was malnourished and her condition was unstable as it was. The fact that she was pregnant only complicated her situation even more.

Nyamo had a hard time picturing Yukari as a mother. To be a good mother, a woman had to devote herself almost entirely to her child's existence. Yukari was not selfless, and as far as Nyamo knew, she didn't even like kids. First and foremost, the key to being a good parent was being mature and responsible. That included, among others, things like not staying out late and getting drunk, being a living example of how to act properly in society, and having the potential to express unconditional love. After a bit of intense contemplation, Nyamo wondered if Yukari was capable of doing any of those things.

The door of Yukari's room was suddenly pulled open and Nyamo started from her leaning position. A nurse holding Yukari's chart slipped out from the room with a gentle smile.

"She's all set. You can visit her if you want," the nurse whispered.

"How is she doing?" Nyamo looked straight into the nurse's eyes as though searching for answers other than the ones she had been given by the doctor.

"Well…That depends on what you're asking about," the nurse offered a slight shrug. As a nurse, there were some things that she was not authorized to say. Only a doctor could give a proper diagnosis on a patient's condition and she didn't want to fill the woman with dead hope. "I think she's doing all right so far. If you have any questions just ask the on-call doctor."

"Thanks." Nyamo nodded and ran a hand back through her hair. She didn't really want to ask a doctor because she knew what the doctor would say. The doctor would tell her the same things that she didn't want to hear. She would be told that Yukari's recovery wasn't guaranteed, that she might be a slightly different person than before, and that it would be months before she was able to walk again, if ever. Nyamo brushed past the nurse and stepped into the recovery room, closing the door gently behind her.

The recovery room was dark with the exception of a small emergency light in one corner of the ceiling. There was a window in the far wall with the shades down, but at this hour there was hardly any sunlight to let in anyway. Past the short passageway that lead into the room, Nyamo could see the foot end of a bed and a metal stand on top of which was an empty tray. The silence of the room was broken only by the rhythmic hissing sound of a respirator and the steady beep of a heart monitor.

Nyamo couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she stepped further into the room. She was surprised to find herself fighting the urge to turn right back around and just leave the hospital all together. A part of her didn't want to see what had become of Yukari. She wanted to remember Yukari as the vivacious girl she grew up with, not the bloody drug addict she had peeled off the concrete earlier that night. As she came into the room, the rest of the patient bed came into view.

The head of the recovery bed was surrounded by several machines and monitors, a couple of which hummed softly. Multiple tubes ran from the machines to the bed and disappeared beneath the sheets.

Laid on the bed, what was left of Yukari Tanizaki remained out cold with the effects of anesthesia. The combined size and mass of the contraptions surrounding the bed made the former language teacher look almost half her normal size. She had been dressed in a hospital gown and the sheets had been pulled up to her chest, concealing the end results of the surgeries on her legs and torso. Her right arm had been set into a cast and her left arm had been bandaged from the hand all the way up to the bicep. There were no IVs leading from either arm because most of the accessible veins in them had already been destroyed. Instead the doctors had chosen veins in her thighs as a means to supply her malnourished body with fluid, nutrients, and blood. Her head had been wrapped several times with heavy gauze, not only to staunch the bleeding of the gash in her forehead but also to hold the nasal oxygen tube in place beneath her nose. Currently her head had turned slightly to the side. With her eyes closed she looked just as though she may have been sleeping, and yet she wasn't snoring.

The sight was almost enough to make Nyamo sick all over again. She was sure that she would have gotten physically ill if there had been anything left in her stomach. One baby step at a time she was able to approach the side of the bed and finally get a good long look at her friend. To her, Yukari was the type of person who should have never been seen in a hospital bed. The notion of someone being hospitalized was something serious. The only time that Yukari should have been in a hospital bed was if she were playing another one of her mean pranks.

"Dammit, Yukari…" Nyamo whispered. She lifted her hand and used the barest ends of her fingers tips to brush Yukari's bangs away from her forehead. "What am I gonna do with you…"

Yukari failed to make any kind of response, not that Nyamo had been expecting one. The athlete at least wanted to pretend that Yukari was able to hear her on some level. The only way to really tell Yukari anything without the chance of a defensive retaliation was to tell her when she was unconscious.

"I hope you know that you owe me dinner for this…"

Still no response. Yukari laid as still as death, excepting the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Nyamo observed her closely.

In sleep, Yukari always looked so blissfully content. Often times she slept with her mouth wide open, snoring loudly without one trace of apprehension. She was difficult to share a bed with because she had a habit of kicking and tangling the sheets. Indeed she didn't care enough about being graceful and beautiful to change the way that she did things for the sake of suiting others. Not in sleep, and not in life.

Nyamo smoothed her hand over the bed sheets and let it rest against Yukari's stomach.

"This is the part where you jump up and tell me that I should have seen the look on my face…Then I tell you that you're unbelievable and you piss me off more than anything else in the world…" Nyamo inhaled a shaky breath and averted her gaze to the ceiling. Her eyes were beginning to sting with a fresh set of tears and right now she didn't want to cry. Crying never helped anything. "And then you tell me not to take everything so seriously…" Her voice cracked and she wiped quickly at her eyes with her other hand. "…Then we get into a fight, and later I end up buying you dinner…"

Nyamo could fully acknowledge that in the past she had let Yukari walk all over her. She preferred to think that she had been Yukari's leeway. It hadn't been because she was gullible or easily taken advantage of. She wouldn't have let anyone else get away with the things that she had allowed Yukari to. She had done it because of the significant place that Yukari had unwittingly taken in her life.

Nyamo stood silent for several minutes and listened to the rhythmic beep of Yukari's heart monitor. Her attention fell to where her hand rested against the sheets. Absently she swept her hand back and forth over the area to see if she could feel any semblance of a swelling. Somehow the idea of Yukari being pregnant made her think of the term 'babies having babies'. Yukari was twenty five but hardly grown up at all.

"I should hate you, ya know…." she stated softly. "Sometimes I wonder if I were given the chance, if I would just cut out that part of me that feels anything for you…"

The ability to do such a thing would have certainly saved her a lot of grief. Then she thought about what her life might have been like if she hadn't met Yukari. That was something that she rarely ever thought about because the resulting picture was depressing and grim. Sighing, she turned and pulled up a chair to the side of the bed. She sat in the chair and leaned forward to fold her arms on the mattress, resting her head down as well. Odd as it seemed, it would have been wonderful if Yukari just woke up and made fun of her for getting all emotional. The doctors had foretold of a possible change in personality, but she wanted Yukari exactly the way that she had been, laziness and obnoxiousness included.

* * *

**Note:** Regarding honorifics and why I don't use them. It's because I just don't. It's for the same reason that instead of 'gomen' I use 'sorry' and instead of 'arigato' I use 'thank you', etc. What's the point of adding blurbs of Japanese into a story that's written in English? I can assume that almost everyone reading this story has at least a basic understanding of the Japanese langauge, including a basic vocabulary. Yet to write a story in English under the given insinuation that all of the characters are actually speaking Japanese, and then have a character suddenly say something like 'are wa omoshiroi desu' makes it seem like the characters really were speaking English in the first place. In this story, the obvious exception is Yukari's occasional foreign language outburst, and in those cases she really is speaking the language that is used.

The argument I received in an email tells me that using honorifics makes it more like the anime. First (with all due respect to those who have so far been enjoying this story, I thank you very much), I would just like to point out that _very little_ of this story is like the anime. Second, I watch my anime dubbed and, with the exception of Chiyo-chan, honorifics aren't used and I'm not used to hearing them. People can flame dubbed anime all they want. It's never, ever, ever going to change the fact that subtitled anime can't hold my interest. It's just a fact, plain and simple.

In essence, I have absolutely no problem with those who choose to use honorifics and Japanesein their fictions. It's all a matter of preference on the part of the writer. I'm simply answering the question as to why I don't.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **For those wondering if I'm planning on updating my other story, A Bright and Beautiful Future, yes I am. For a while I was writing it simultaneously with this one but I found it easier to do just one story at a time. When I finish this story, I'll continue the other. Or if I need a break from this story then I'll add a chapter of BBF.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Yukari was laying her back with her arms and legs spread eagle. She might have been there for five minutes, and it might have been five days. It felt the same when her eyes blinked suddenly and she realized that she was there.

Above her was a hue of grayish purple. It was not a sky, and furthermore it seemed to have no shape or depth. It was one stretch of color that, depending on how she focused upon it, could have been miles away, or inches away from her face.

She pushed up into a sitting position and let her head fall forward. Her body felt heavy as though she had turned into a bag of wet sand. Wherever and however she was, she was at least glad that she was wearing clothes this time. The purple shirt and brown-beige patterned skirt were familiar. One of her favorite outfits. She managed to lift her head to see where she was, only to discover that there wasn't much to take in.

The ground she laid upon was dark and cracked like the dried up terrain of a dessert wasteland. Without so much as a hill or a valley, it extended on to a horizon that probably didn't exist. The window above was gone, as was the bed and Nyamo. Where the ground met with the sky in the distance was nothing more than a fuzzy black line, almost indiscernible.

Yukari hauled herself to her feet and scratched the side of her head. She didn't even have the energy to wonder what had become of her now. She didn't really care. There was nothing left to do but walk.

She had finally done it. In her previous delusion she had found it in herself to hurt Nyamo in the worst possible way. The events that had taken place hadn't been real, but it was the thought that counted. She didn't want to kill Nyamo, just ruin her for being the wonderful person that she had been all those years. It was sick, and Yukari didn't understand it in the slightest.

Her sandals scuffed dryly against the ground with each step. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. A thin film of dust was kicked up in her wake and settled again almost immediately. In every direction there nothing but more nothing. It should have been disturbing, but instead she found it more of a comfort. Her existence had become simplified into one basic form. She was there, and she was walking. That was all she had to do.

After about five minutes of listening to the sound of the tundra crunching under her footsteps, her look of fatigue changed into one of boredom. She began to feel more awake and the weight that had been making her feel so sluggish began to lift.

Twenty minutes later, there was still no sight of anything. The black line of the horizon never shifted any closer.

An hour passed before she finally stopped and set a hand to her hip. She looked up towards the purplish mass, then back ahead of her with a distasteful frown.

"…..This sucks."

"Then why don't you change it?"

A girlish voice from behind her startled her straight into the air. Yukari screamed and whirled around, coming face to face with Nyamo's reprimanding smirk.

"Nyamo!" Yukari gasped and grabbed at her chest. It would just figure that out in the middle of nowhere with nothing else in existence, the only other person around would be Nyamo. Again. However, the Nyamo before her was not the P.E. teacher who she was most recently familiar with. Quickly she rubbed her eyes and shook her head to make sure that she was seeing things correctly.

Nyamo's age had regressed from twenty-five to thirteen. She was about two inches shorter than Yukari, adorned in the sailor-esque uniform of their high school days. She was even clutching a book satchel in her right hand.

"Sort of," Nyamo replied calmly, "And don't hack me up this time, all right?"

"Wh-what're you…I don't understand." Bringing her hands to the sides of her head, Yukari stumbled back. It wasn't real. Nothing was real, and she was beginning to get tired of it.

"It's ok. You're asleep right now. They've got you on some pretty heavy drugs, but I only know that because you know that."

"Huh?" Yukari's shoulders slumped. Right then, more than anything, she would have preferred to just turn her back and continue walking. She couldn't take anymore riddles. If she was under heavy drugs then she wanted to be dreaming about flying cars and giant pink bunnies with heads that would explode every time she said a certain word. Yet she stood there with confusion plastered all over her face, letting her arms hang at her sides.

"All right…" Nyamo sighed, shifting her weight to one foot. "You're dreaming. That means all of this is in your head, and _that_ means that everything that happens here is a representation of something that you've felt or that you already know."

Yukari stared at her blankly. Several moments passed before her lips parted and slowly she raised a finger to point towards her own chest.

"So…then I know that I'm dreaming."

"Apparently, because I just told you."

"Then why are you having to explain it to me?"

"Because I represent everything that you don't _know _that you know, or that you forgot."

"So you're like a subconscious then." Yukari straightened up and rubbed the back of her head thoughtfully. If she was dreaming then this was definitely one hell of a dream. Usually when she began to acknowledge the fact that she was dreaming, she woke up pretty quick.

"Something like that," Nyamo shrugged. "Like here's a fact from one of your old psychology courses: People never actually forget anything. Once the brain obtains new information, that information is always there. The problem is creating a trigger to recall the information. If no trigger is created, then there's no way for you to recall the information. That's what really happens when we forget. Consider me as a trigger for all things in your head."

Yukari fell silent again as she watched the other girl. Then suddenly she burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, whatever! If I never forgot anything then I'd be the smartest person in the world! Trigger my ass!"

Nyamo rolled her eyes.

"Look, you already know all this. Hasn't it ever happened that a certain smell or sight will make you remember something that you hadn't thought of in years?"

"Eh…" Yukari's laughter cut off. She frowned and put her hands to her hips. "All right then. If you're supposed to be my subconscious, then why was I able to read _Nyamo's_ thoughts when I attacked her? She was talking to me."

"Because everything you 'read' of her, you already knew. It just seemed new to you because the knowledge was never given a finite form."

"Until now, you mean."

"Exactly."

"Why does my subconscious look like a little Nyamo?"

"It could really look like anything. You just have Nyamo on your mind."

"So what'd I get for my ninth birthday?"

"A new pair of skates, a Romanized dictionary, a stuffed tiger from your father's trip to China, and the kitty bank which remains half empty to this day."

"Then what's the Capital of Croatia?"

"Zagreb."

"Are mangroves temperate or tropical?"

"Tropical."

"What's a fish's tail called?"

"A caudle fin."

"When was Soseki born?"

"1867."

"What about my high school culture fest with Nyamo?"

"It wasn't your fault."

"What's with all the nothing?"

"You've been feeling a lot of it lately."

"Am I gonna die?"

"Yep."

"Right now?"

"Probably not."

"Hm…"

Yukari went quiet as she considered her situation. She now had access to something that was similar to an encyclopedia of her own memories, though she wasn't sure if she wanted to take advantage of it or not.

"Why now? Why can't I always recall things like this?" she ventured carefully.

"First of all it's because you made it a point to block so many things out. Second of all, you assume that this is all a result of your head injury." Nyamo shifted her book bag into both hands and held them behind her head.

"Head injury…" By reflex Yukari lifted her hand to her forehead where she had smashed into the steering wheel. The gash wasn't there, just like none of her other injuries existed in her dream.

Nyamo dropped her arms to her sides and stepped closer.

"You're trying to remember something. That's why I'm here."

"Tell me."

"Yukio."

"Yukio! I've never seen him."

"Yes you have. Look there," Nyamo's voice was gentle and she lifted her hand to point at something over Yukari's shoulder.

Yukari turned, and suddenly she was no longer standing out in the middle of nowhere. She was making her way up the short path that lead to Nyamo's old house. It was late afternoon and the weather was warm. She was supposed to meet Nyamo at the movie theatre but decided instead to meet her early at her house. The front door of the house was slightly cracked and she could hear voices coming from inside.

"Nyamo?" she heard herself call out. Her hand lifted and pushed against the door just as the voices ceased.

The door opened. Several feet beyond the threshold, Nyamo was standing stiffly near the wall. She was still wearing her school uniform and was tugging absently at the bottom hem of her skirt. Beside her there was a young man, tall and gangly. Quite contrary to most boys, his black hair was past his shoulders and pulled back in a pony tail. The shirt of his boys' uniform was open at the top. One of his hands was just leaving its clenched position in Nyamo's sleeve.

"Yukari…" Nyamo's voice was low with an implied warning. Her cheeks were red and she was not smiling.

The boy beside Nyamo loosened his fingers from her and twisted his lips into a smile. He stepped back from Nyamo, fixed the collar of his shirt, and made his way to the door.

"You remember what I said, Kurosawa."

His shoulder brushed Yukari as he passed her. Yukari whirled around to glare after him, but by the time she turned around the image was gone. The desert tundra had returned.

"That's it?" Yukari felt her cheeks grow warm.

"Afraid so," Nyamo stepped up and put her hand to the woman's shoulder.

"How'd Nyamo know him?"

"You never found out."

"This is ridiculous!" Yukari shrugged the hand from her shoulder and stepped away. She couldn't believe that Nyamo could have ever been in contact with a man who was directly involved with her former dealer. "I can't just stand around talking to myself! How do I wake up?"

"That depends on the drugs and your head injury."

"But I was fine after the car accident!"

"Were you?"

Yukari ignored the reply and set off running as fast as she could. If she made it to the end of what she saw then maybe she would have no choice but to wake up. She had to wake up, and she should have already woken up. She was thinking too clearly to be completely asleep.

The faster she tried to run, the more she seemed to stay in place. The ground moved beneath her like a carpet on a wax floor. Her surroundings shifted and moved past her as she ran, giving her the impression that she really was going at top speed. Yet in the distance, the black line stayed right where it was.

She hadn't been running for more than a few seconds when suddenly her next step caused her foot to sink through the ground. The surface of the ground rippled and she fell forward into it on her hands and knees. It was more of a sensation than the ground that snaked its way up along her arms. It was thick like syrup and reminded her of the first time that she had injected heroin.

"Idiot, wake up!" Yukari shouted upward into the nothingness. The urge was pulling at her. She felt it seep up along her legs and over her back, rubbing its muzzle into the most prominent of her vulnerabilities. It penetrated her skin and wrapped itself around her bones. She was fading from the dream and the pain of her real life state began to distort her perceptions.

Nyamo came and crouched beside Yukari, canting her head and resting her chin to the tops of her knees.

"Are you all right? You're not acting like yourself," she said softly. The sound of the whisper rose up through the air and resulted loud enough to fill the entire area with its noise.

"This is me…" Yukari returned the whisper and shut her eyes tight, "I can't change."

"It's all right. The dream is ending."

The wasteland promptly imploded in on itself like the dome of a deflating basketball. Nyamo's image shattered and Yukari was left to bear the weight that pressed down from above. She was hurting, but for the first time in years, she was finally waking up.

* * *

**Note: **I thought about putting the next part of the story in this same chapter, but it's been a while since I've added anything and I didn't want to take forever. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **Again I find myself apologizing for delays.I've been reading over some past chapters andI'm wondering now if perhaps I cut too much from the story by posting the edited version. The way the story is now, it seems as though Yukio just kind of fell out of the sky. Ah well. Better this version with gaps in the plot than have the story get reported I suppose.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Sunlight had come and gone across the floor of Yukari's hospital room. The traffic of cars outside had mounted and receded as another work day climbed to the peak of productivity and then sloped back down to the pressured tumult of evening.

Hour sixteen of Nyamo's fruitless vigil was approaching. At eight o'clock that morning she had called in to work and told her administrator that she would not be showing up. In the middle of being asked what the matter was, she had quickly placed the phone back on its cradle. She couldn't bring herself to flat out lie, and as of yet she didn't want anyone at the school to know that she had found Yukari, or more specifically, how she had found her.

After another five minute break for fresh air, Nyamo entered back into Yukari's room with a cup of water in her hand. The shift nurses who had come and gone throughout the day had been her only outlet, someone to talk to, but not to understand. All of the nurses thought that they knew Yukari's story. Nyamo's presence was the only thing that told them that they didn't know her at all.

Nyamo shut the door behind her and yawned. It was almost nine 'o clock at night and she was beginning to feel that it would be impossible for her to sleep soundly ever again. All through the day she had taken ten minute naps, only to jolt herself awake at the thought that Yukari would rouse while she had dozed off.

When she headed across the room to her seat, she took yet another look at Yukari and saw that the woman's eyes had opened slightly. Her mind had already gotten her into feeling disappointment before she actually registered what she was seeing. She went to sit down in her seat, then did a sudden double take. The cup was flinched from her hand and water spilled forgotten to the floor.

"Yukari!"

Yukari had been near comatose while under the influence of drugs, both those that she had taken herself and those that the doctor had prescribed to nullify the post operation pain. To have woken her up would have required nothing less influential than the beginning stages of withdrawal. From the moment she had opened her eyes, she was aware that she was nauseous and uncomfortable due to something beyond the fibers of pain being spun throughout her body. She wasn't even seeing straight before two hands took her face between them and she was smothered with a barrage of anxious kisses. Her lips, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her hair, all became the target of Nyamo's ecstatic affection.

When Nyamo pulled back, she kept one hand to Yukari's cheek and ran the other through the dazed woman's hair to get a better look. Yukari was looking far from her prime, even worse than looking as though she had just woken up. To Nyamo, anyone else simply would have looked liked shit, but only because it was Yukari was she able to appreciate the tired-and-tussled look as being something akin to adorable.

"Are you all right? Tell me!" she cried. The first weight of her worries had lifted. Yukari was awake, but that didn't necessarily mean that she was fine. It was imperative to know that Yukari had really come back, that the woman on the bed was not some stranger wrought from the absence of the true Yukari she had grown up with.

Yukari looked blandly at her friend. Her fingers clenched on the whim of one shaky hand that lifted from the pallid bed sheets and formed weakly into a fist that pushed against Nyamo's shoulder, digits curling themselves into the material of the shirt. She dragged the woman closer to her, and from the parched tunnel of her throat rose a dry whisper.

"Get…me…a doctor…" she demanded through clenched teeth. At that moment she couldn't have cared less about the doctors themselves. She didn't care about her injuries, her status, or even Nyamo. She was hot and cold at the same time and though she hardly had the energy to move, she was feeling jittery and quite uncomfortable. Her body desired something, any kind of drug, to stifle her pain and hopefully knock her back out.

Nyamo could have wet herself with happiness. No gushy words of lament, nor confessions of love. That Yukari's first, sober words to her in months had been a curt stipulation made no difference. Yukari was coherent and responsive, and most importantly she was acting more like herself.

"Right! Hold on!"

Nyamo removed Yukari's grip from her shoulder and nearly stumbled as she ran from the room.

Out at the nurse's station, one nurse sat behind the elevated counter typing something into a computer. The nurse was about Nyamo's age and fairly attractive. Her light brown hair was died blonde at the tips and the lipstick she wore was just a shade too red to be considered professionally appropriate. As Nyamo skidded to a halt against the counter, the nurse looked up, peering over the top of thin-framed reading glasses.

"Yes? How can I help you?" she inquired with a polite smile.

"My friend in room 4116," Nyamo pointed to the door of Yukari's room, "She woke up. Can you get a doctor to come check on her?"

"Yes, just a minute," the nurse replied, setting aside what she was doing to get up from her seat. She went to the large filing cabinets against the left wall of the centered station that held all of the patient charts for that floor. She sifted through the charts, pulling out one here and there to check the name and room number on it.

Nyamo eyed the nurse, tapping her fingers anxiously on the counter. The speed at which the nurse moved about was relative. To anyone else, the woman was moving normally. To Nyamo, it looked as though she was making it a point to go as slow as possible. Yukari was awake and had to have been in a considerable amount of pain. As far as Nyamo was concerned, every minute that Yukari was in pain was just one more minute taken from both of their lives.

"Ms. Tanizaki is it?" Chart in hand, the nurse returned to her seat and opened the file to the most recent progress note.

"That's her," Nyamo leaned further over the counter to see what the nurse was looking at.

"Oh my," the nurse frowned as she read over what the doctor had written of Yukari's condition. Not the worst case she had seen, but significant nonetheless. She picked up the phone by her computer and dialed in a number. After a few moments she dialed in another number, hit the pound button, and replaced the receiver. "The attending physician is Dr. Matsuya. She's admitting a patient right now but I'll have her come up as soon as she can." Yukari's chart was closed and she set it aside with a smile.

"That's it?" Nyamo paused and stilled her hand against the counter, looking at the nurse in mild disbelief.

"I'm sorry, but the doctor is down in the ER. She'll-"

"All right, all right. Just hurry," Nyamo sighed and straightened to head back to Yukari's room. She had already played that circular game with the nurses several times. Somehow, the hospital was crawling with doctors and yet it seemed that all of them were always too busy to do anything. Doctors helped so many patients during the day, yet in the moments when a patient truly needed them, they were never to be found.

Back in the recovery room, Yukari had taken the bed sheets and pushed them all to the side. She saw that her left leg had been set into a cast, and her right leg had been fitted with a specialized brace. The brace looked similar to four steel poles surrounding the leg at four corners. The poles were padded at the top and bottom, held firmly in place with thick Velcro straps. Stainless steel rods, six in all, were bolted to the brace and protruded directly into her leg. The brace as an external hold looked as though it were the only thing keeping the leg together. Beneath her hospital gown, the outline of another girdle-like support could be seen wrapped about her torso. Added with the cast and bandages on her arms, the majority of her body was thus fitted with a support mechanism of some kind.

Yukari had found out that getting up on her elbows was entirely out of the question. Lifting her head had been enough of a strain, and simply moving the bed sheets had intensified her nausea. By the time she heard Nyamo walk back into the room, she had rested her head back against the pillow. She was breathing a little harder than normal and a sheen had sweat had formed along the skin of her face and neck.

Nyamo rushed back to the bed side and took Yukari's hand into her own.

"The doctor's coming. It'll-"

"Don't touch me." Yukari jerked her hand away. Despite the pain and the fuzziness in her head, she hadn't forgotten what had been recollected in her dream. A distinct memory followed closely by a sense of denial, the need to escape, and then the heavy burden of regret. She was feeling so sick and Nyamo was one of the last people she wanted to see right then.

"What's wrong?" Nyamo felt her skin grow cold. Her fingers slipped back along the bed sheets and dropped to her side. Not even the Yukari she knew would have recoiled so bluntly.

"Where's the doctor?" The sheets were taken into Yukari's fingers and she tugged at them absently, turning her head with deliberation away from the woman at her bed side.

"She's on her way," Nyamo replied, her voice growing soft with disbelief.

"Goddammit!"

Again Yukari strained to lift her head and look towards the door. Only a few minutes had passed since she had woken up and each one felt like an eternity in itself. Her heart was racing, her mouth was dry, and there was an energy surging through her that she didn't have the strength to do anything with. It festered inside of her, boiling like fuel in a broken engine. She curled her wrists inward, tugging at the sheets until her torso reached the limits of its curving capability. Searing pain struck from her ribs and down into her gut. She growled deeply, writhing her shoulders back into the mattress. Right and wrong, Yukio and Nyamo, truth and lie were all irrelevant matters to her. The basic needs of her body, the needs that she had gotten accustomed to over the years, were not being met.

"Yukari, stop it! You'll hurt yourself!" Though hesitant to touch the woman after such a rebuttal, Nyamo moved forward and pressed her hands firmly to Yukari's shoulders to try and keep her still.

"Don't you talk to me about hurt!" Yukari couldn't push Nyamo away, but she kept her head up to glare furiously at the dark haired woman.

"I said stop it! What's wrong with you?" Nyamo clenched her teeth and met Yukari's wild glower with a patience that had been similarly tried over the years. By that time she was used to dealing with Yukari's temper, but Yukari had never lashed out so harshly before.

"Shut up, you liar! You're a fucking liar!"

"I never lied to you about anything! Why are you talking like this!"

"Bitch!" Yukari's voice lowered to a seething hiss. She couldn't help but rant the first thing off the top of her head. While in a state of pain and desperation, she had no inhibitions and she had no cares. "You knew."

"What?" The anger melted from Nyamo's gaze. Her fingers as well as her entire arms lost their will to hold any pressure against the other woman and her grip loosened. At the receiving end of Yukari's suddenly distrustful look, she felt as though she had been caught. She was trapped, pin pointed like a prime suspect in a crime involving premeditation. The only problem was that she didn't know anything about the crime she was being accused of.

"You knew." Yukari repeated herself more calmly. All those years she had secretly looked up to Nyamo, now with the memory that had surfaced, one that had been there all along, she realized that she truly hadn't known everything about her friend after all. "You were with him."

Nyamo felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. The reference could have only been to Yukio. Neither she nor Yukari had mentioned Yukio in years, but she had no idea exactly what had been transpiring over the past few months. Up until that moment she had tried to be content in the belief that Yukari had forgotten all about him.

"What did he say to you?" Almost afraid to ask, she forced the question from her throat. There were some things that she didn't want Yukari to find out, things that only Yukio would have been able to tell her.

"When I think of all that time…" A sarcastic smirk crossed Yukari's otherwise dazed features. She shook her head and let it fall back, light brown hair meshed against the pillow. "I really had no idea. No clue at all."

"Yukari…please…" Nyamo whispered, backing slowly away from the bed.

"But you…"

"Don't."

"It makes sense now. He knew me because you knew him. You knew me and he knew me through you."

"Yukari, I-"

"You were jealous, weren't you? Was it on purpose?"

"I don't-"

"Was it! Did you tell him about me? Why was he there!"

"I don't know!"

"Liar!" Yukari lifted her head again. "Get out!"

"But-"

"I said get out!"

Nyamo paused, hands balled so tightly that they began to shake. It was obvious that her presence was only upsetting Yukari further. No matter how much she wanted to stay and argue her side of things, she knew that Yukari was in a lot of pain and not in the state of mind to be discussing matters that required active listening. She turned on heel and strode from the room. Once the door slammed behind her, she leaned back against it and folded her arms. Yukio must have told her. He must have told her everything.

"I don't know…" With her head bowed, she whispered her conviction. The problem with the argument was that she had no ground to stand upon. It had been years since she had seen Yukio, and whatever he had been up to during those years had certainly been none of her business. She had no idea whether his involvement had been based on getting revenge on her or not.

Reluctantly she straightened from the door and made her way down the hall towards the elevators. It was late and she could do with a shower and good night's rest in her own bed. The doctors had been right in that Yukari wasn't acting like herself, either because of the drugs or because she was simply that angry. If Yukari really was that angry, then Nyamo wouldn't have blamed her for it. She would have been angry too if the actions of her best friend had dragged her down into a dangerous circle.

* * *

_Minamo released the knob of the front door as she stepped into her house. One after the other she slipped her shoes off, pushing them up towards the base of the single step that lead up into the living room. Her back pack was let down from her arms and transferred into the grip of one hand. _

_In the living there came the sound of voices. Just beyond the corner she could see an unfamiliar couple, assumingly husband and wife, sitting on the couch in the living room. _

_The man sat against one corner of the couch with one arm draped around the woman's shoulders, his other arm dangling over the arm rest. Both the man and the woman were dressed with the kind of gaudiness that was expensive enough to be attractive. The rings on the man's fingers were bigger than those on the woman's, and the woman wore an Italian style dress, satin with low neck line and high slit, completed with red chiffon scarf. Minamo could smell them from where she stood at the door, the light, flowery scent of something imported with no expense spared. _

_The man laughed at something and shifted in his seat. _

"_That's right! The world changes too fast these days."_

"_We were just talking about that the other day," her mother replied from her place in the arm chair out of Minamo's view, "Our Minamo is starting high school next year and we have great hopes for her!"_

_The woman on the couch looked at her husband and rested her hand to his knee._

"_Isn't it a wonderful age? At thirteen, I had no idea what I was going to do with myself," she laughed and shook her head softly._

_Her father's voice broke in, also coming from a place out of her line of vision._

"_Did the door open? Is that Minamo?" The floor creaked as he got to his feet._

_The couple on the couch looked towards the door. A moment later her mother leaned forward just enough to peer around the corner and catch her gaze. _

"_Yes, here she is! Come and meet our guests, Minamo," she said cheerfully as she too stood up. _

_Minamo closed the door behind her and made her way into the living room. For whatever reason, he parents almost never had guests over. Visitors in the living room was an indication of no small event. _

_As she came into the room, she couldn't ignore the distinct feeling that she was being watched. No only watched, but observed and scrutinized. She looked towards the couple on the couch and nodded with a polite smile, seeing that their eyes seemed fixed on her from head to toe. _

_Her parents had stood from their seats across from the couch. Her mother approached and rested her hand to her shoulder. _

"_Minamo, this is Mr. and Mrs. Shimahashi," she said, then motioned to another arm chair closer to the wall, "and their son."_

_From the arm chair a young man stood up. He was a willowy boy, not many years older than herself, and seemingly the scholarly type, dressed in an evening suit and wearing thin framed glasses. There was nothing outstanding about him. His expression was gentle and his posture was reserved._

_Minamo bowed slightly to him and he returned the gesture._

"_Yukio," he stated simply, standing straight with his hands folded in front of him._

_An introduction on her part would have been unnecessary. Though she grinned at Yukio, her attention was turned more to her parents. Neither of them had ever smiled so brightly. _

* * *

**Note: **Don't know. Don't know. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **Rather strong language warning for this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

"Why are you doing this?" Yukari growled, taking handfuls of her hair between her fingers.

One ordeal after another, always jumping from the kettle the into the fire. Thirty six hours ago she had been transported from her regular hospital room and into another room that was cramped and void of almost everything. Hard white walls, off-white ceiling tiles (seventeen of them she had counted), plastic covering on the mattress she laid upon, and a metal serving tray that was kept one infuriating inch out of her reach.

Not long after her confrontation with Nyamo, Dr. Matsuya had paid a visit. The doctor had listened calmly to each of her complaints, sometimes nodding and asking a question, all the while documenting notes into her chart. She had acknowledged the symptoms of nausea, body aches, anxiety, chills, fever, and ramped irritability, and then prescribed only one medication to help the nausea, much to Yukari's chagrin.

"_What the fucking hell!" Yukari shouted, grabbing onto the metal supports of her bed as though to launch herself forward. "Fuck nausea! I'm sick! I'm in pain! Gimme some fucking pain meds!"_

"_You're on two milligrams of Dilaudid. That's equivalent to twenty milligrams of morphine," the doctor replied calmly._

"_Yeah well they're not working!"_

"_Yes, they are. What you're feeling isn't pain."_

"_You wanna tell me what I'm feeling? How about you crawl inside my fucking body and _then_ tell me that I'm not feeling pain!"_

"_You'll be fine," Dr. Matsuya sighed and shook her head, "A woman in your condition shouldn't be on such strong pain medicine in the first place." With the dosage that Yukari had been given by the previous attending physician, giving her more was completely out of the question._

"_In my condition?" Yukari blanched, "Look at my fucking legs! Look at my head! My arms! I'm the fucking poster model for women who need to be on drugs!"_

"_I wasn't referring to your injuries, Ms. Tanizaki," the doctor softly replied._

Yukari dug her fingers into the plastic beneath her. There were no bed sheets for her to tear and tug at, to ball up and hold against her face as she sobbed. Her left hand rested against her stomach, tearing at her gown.

"I can't do this…I can't do this…"

She was pregnant, and even worse than having the news delivered to her by a stranger was having a fairly good idea that she had been knocked up by a psycho.

Everything was making sense to her now. Her addiction and her pregnancy were just parts of a big conspiracy centered on ruining her life. Her dealer had never really been all that afraid of germs as he had told her. He had made his clients wear condoms to ensure that he would make money but also be the only one who had the chance to get her pregnant. Yukio and Nyamo must have conspired with him on this.

Yes, that had to have been it. Years ago when she had walked in on Nyamo and Yukio, they must have been plotting against her just like everyone else. That was why Yukio had left in such a rush and why Nyamo hadn't told her who he was, not that she had ever asked.

Twisting herself against the mattress, Yukari closed her eyes and exhaled a loud sob. She had no control over her thoughts or actions anymore. She couldn't stop flinching, nor could she zone anything out. Repeatedly she hit her fist to the side of her head.

"Idiot…fuckin'—I can't…! BUT SHE…! There's someone and—tell ME! For once! JUST once only ONCE I can't do it anything god please stopkillME! _Me_!" she coughed when she ran out of air and the sound of her voice dwindled to a weak, broken noise. With as many thoughts and images that kept flickering into her mind, she couldn't focus on any of them for more than a moment.

Most prominently she remembered the man she had come to depend upon the most for her drugs. Most of the time his drug use had kept him lulled into a delusional sense of logic. He had dragged her from place to place, his sporadic migrations typical of someone who was looking for something, or perhaps running from something. She had always laughed at his habits, though never out loud. In the end, she regretted him almost as much as she regretted herself. Her weakness had taken her to him, and her insecurities had kept her with him.

"Look behind you…one more time…" Yukari whispered, her head tilting back against the mattress. She could feel the dealer's weight above her, his hands grabbing hers and pinning them beside her head. There was no one on the bed with her, but perception of reality comesas an entirely mental process.A tree falls in the woods and no sound happens beyond the vibrations of ear drums. Eyes register nothing but electromagnetic energy, touch registers nothing but the reaction of nerve endings within the skin. A person's view of the world depends on what their brain tells them, and Yukari's brain was telling her that she was feeling her dealer all over again. He had come back to save her and give her what she needed. "What's your name?" she whispered to the specter whose smile she could see behind her eye lids.

Suddenly she was screaming again. Her eyes flew open and she lashed out her non-casted arm. When it contacted nothing she flinched and beat her fist to the side of the bed, biting hard on her lower lip.

The car accident had been nothing compared to the suffering she endured without her drugs. Peeling off of a substance was like undergoing surgery without anesthesia. She could feel the blade of sobriety cutting her open and leaving her exposed. Without her drugs, she was only herself. She was not a super woman, she was not a hero, and she was not a good friend. She was not a good person period. There were no more delusions for her to run to. She was laid upon that bed in blaring wakefulness, a broken body harboring the mind of a woman who had lived solely for herself and without direction or purpose. The thought of being unable to crawl from her skin made her physically ill.

She turned onto her right side as much as she could. Her legs were the source of most of her discomfort, mostly because she couldn't move them. If she wanted to shift them, she couldn't, and that irked her more than simply being in pain. The brace on her right leg was too heavy and her left leg was immobile in its full length cast.

"Je…JE SUIS…!" (1)

Just then, the door to the room opened and a nurse backed her way inside, carting a metal tray along with her. A man wearing a white uniform shirt and pants followed in after her.

"Good morning, Ms. Tanizaki," the nurse smiled mechanically and moved to the bedside, pushing the empty tray out of the way to make room for the tray she had brought. On the tray were several stacks of gauze, medical tape, scissors, a screw driver, and pliers. The man moved to the opposite side of the bed and rested his hands to his waist, grinning in an absent way.

"What're you doing?" Yukari asked and lifted her head to see what was on the tray.

"The same thing we do every time we come in. Just checking your bandages," the nurse replied. She started first with Yukari's legs, gently taking hold of the right one.

"Where's Nyamo? Stop!"

The nurse looked up and nodded to the man who then rested his hands to Yukari's arms.

"I'm not sure," she replied, though she had never seen nor heard of anyone named Nyamo. Sometimes it was better to just humor the patient to avoid upsetting them.

"Do me a favor," Yukari turned her attention to the man.

"Huh?" the man arched an eyebrow, keeping his grip lightly upon the patient's arms. This was only his third day on the job and the nurse in charge had hinted that this patient could be considered his basic training. Ms. Tanizaki wasn't the most volatile patient to pass through detox, but she was close.

"You deaf? I said a favor! Do me! Favor! Get it?"

"Sorry, I got nothin'," he shook his head slowly, rather unsure of how seriously to treat the discussion.

"Listen to me before you answer. I'm feeling sick, get me? So I can't be here," Yukari said. She didn't fight against the holds on her arms, nor did she attempt to kick her legs. She had learned her lesson the last time when the sharp motion of her right leg had left her screaming for twenty minutes.

"It's all right. We're here to take care of you," the nurse interjected in a calm voice. Using the pliers, she unscrewed the bolts that kept the brace tight on Yukari's leg. She loosened the brace just enough to the wedge the old gauze strips out from it, then replaced them with fresh ones. The points at which the rods protruded into Yukari's leg were most vulnerable to infection. The incisions frequently bled, however slightly due to the stitches.

"But I can't! I need to get out of here!"

"We know. You'll be fine in a few days."

"Think it's funny don't you?" Yukari said, looking back and forth between the nurse and her assistant.

"What's that?"

"Just like them. It's going away."

"What is?"

"I'm not suicidal ya know."

"That's good," the nurse nodded. After so many years of working in the detox ward, she was used to listening to such babble. Addicts, while withdrawing from their substances, frequently experienced bouts of mania. Illogical speech was only one symptom that she was required to tolerate. Sometimes the conversations could be funny, and other times they were frightening.

"Doesn't make sense with you guys here. I mean, why suicide?" Yukari shook her head sporadically before finally resting back against the mattresswith a sigh."I've been waking up dead every day...every day...every day..."

* * *

_Yukari stared hard at the piece of paper in front of her. In eight hours she had a seven page essay due on Natsume Soseki's travel logs. So far she had written her name, her instructor's name, and the course number at the top of the first page, and the rest of the essay was being left to the whims of her pencil which hadn't moved from its spot on the desk._

_Ever since her first week of college, she measured her days in conflicts, and her time was measured in projects and assignments. Each of the tasks that she had been given had seemed monumental compared to what she had endured in high school. In college there was no busy work. Every task was always a disturbingly large percent of her grade, and she couldn't shake the massive amount of pressure weighing on her shoulders six days a week._

_With each paper she turned in and each test she took, she felt the awful weight of the real world. She wasn't simply going to school anymore. She was competing for a comfortable future. She needed to make good grades to earn her degree to graduate to go out into society with a resumé that she could use to get a good enough job that would keep her above the poverty line. _

_The blank paper on her desk glared up at her defiantly._

"_Soseki…Soseki…" she mumbled, trying to remember what her professor had said of him in class. Something about stomach aches and being disinterested in everything he saw, but what about the basic facts? Where was he from, when was he born, and what had he done in the first place? "Dammit."_

_She pushed up from her desk and slunk over to the window of her dorm room. Resting her hands to the sill, she leaned forward and touched her forehead to the glass. Her situation was doing more than just making her anxious. She felt trapped. Her choices were either graduate from college or spend the rest of her life working her ass off to make ends meet. She was only lucky that Minamo had compelled her enough to go to college in the first place. Now that she was in college however, she, like every other student, was on her own. There was no one who could plant information into her head. What she learned on her own was what she learned period. There was no one to assist her in being a student anymore. If she didn't make the grade then she couldn't continue with her education. That meant facing the world with what she had, which by competitive standards, wasn't much at all. The promise of an acceptable future one again boiled down to a specific point in time. That point revolved around her and the blank paper on her desk._

_Slowly she directed her attention up towards the sky. Right then, more than anything, she wished for an awful occurrence. Any horrendous event would have done. Getting hit by a car, getting robbed and beaten half to death, maybe completely to death, or even contracting some potentially fatal illness would have been a wonderful miracle sent from above. A tragedy was what she needed, something to give her a reason to just stop and run away._

"_Help me," she whispered against the window, her lips barely moving to form the words. To be able to have a good time in life was not so much to ask. The more successful one wanted to be, the harder one had to work. In the future she wanted enough success to keep her comfortable and level with her adversaries, but not so much that she wouldn't have enough time for video games, excessive sleep, or any other high goals she set for herself. All she wanted in life was the privilege to relax._

_The door to the room was suddenly shoved open and the other occupant who usually slept in the bed across from Yukari stutter-stepped her way inside. The girl was dressed in a pleated skirt and loose turtle neck sweater, one sleeve of which was rolled up on her arm. On an average scale the girl was tall, the majority of her height being devoted to her legs. Layers of dark brown hair fell just past her shoulders and each of her ears was pierced twice. The earrings that dangled from the holes were simple loops, silver and green._

_Saki was the type of student who attended every other class, did homework assignments at the last minute, and never ended up passing with anything below an eighty-nine average. She was something of an athlete, being an occasional member of the non-competitive volley ball team when she found the time, and whenever she went out it was never without her best male friends, the two she had imprinted as her big brothers. _

_So abruptly had the door been flung open that Yukari jumped and fell back against the window._

"_Saki! Who the hell said you could just barge in here!" she shouted with hands clenched in offensive mode._

"_This is my room too ya know," the other girl replied, rolling her eyes upward. She crossed the room to her own bed and crouched at the foot of it. From under the bed frame she dragged out a trunk and began twisting at its combination lock._

"_That's no excuse! Knock next time!"_

"_Whatever. You remembered about tonight, right?"_

"_What about it?"_

"_You forgot? I just told you this morning! A bunch of us are going to Shibuya for a while. Shoichi's gonna be there. You said you knew him in high school right?"_

_Yukari frowned to the mention of the boy. She had never spoken a single word to him during her entire three years of high school and had purposely avoided any interactions with him whatsoever. The first time she had seen his face, he had been coming from a bathroom in the hallway. He had stopped and watched her silently as she passed, their eyes meeting for several distinct seconds. At the time, her arm had been trapped in the painful grip of a very angry vice principal. She had been soaking wet and yelling expletives of all sorts while fighting the urge to cry. Ever since that day, the distance and lack of all communication between them had been comfortable and understood. _

"_I saw him a few times. Never said I knew him," Yukari shrugged. _

"_There'll be other guys there anyway. Actually there's a guy from my chemistry class who said he wanted to come." Saki popped open the lock and lifted up the lid of the trunk to rummage around for something inside._

"_Is he rich?" Yukari smirked. Often times she let people assume that she was the average single girl just looking for a date. Really she couldn't have cared less about the men she encountered. They were never interesting enough to keep her entertained and their self confidence was always too low to keep up with her brash behavior. Though when it came down to money, she was always willing to delve out a little extra attention to those who paid high enough._

"_Yeah, actually." From the trunk, Saki lifted out one of the new tops she had bought the other day. The item looked like a sweater, the top hole of which was just large enough to fall off one shoulder. When worn, the bottom hem would reach only to the naval since stomachs were the latestfad. "So you'll come, right?" She turned towards Yukari with the shirt held against her chest, sticking her lower lip out in a playful pout. _

"_Feh… Rich and available probably means he has some sick disease." Yukari ignored the pout and returned to her desk._

"_Oh come on!" Saki dropped her arms to follow her room mate.She stopped right behind Yukari's chair and rested her elbows to the back of it._

"_Tell him that he's just going to have to wait until next time. I have a paper to do," Yukari sighed with growing agitation. _

"_You always say that."_

"_Because it's always true! I can't help it if I my professors are just hungry for my input on their topics! I'm a busy girl with an extensive waiting list for my time."_

_For the first time in hours, Yukari picked up the pencil from her desk and began tracing the outline for an elaborate paper title. _

"_I know what you need," Saki's lips curled upwards in a mischievous feline's grin. She pushed up from the chair and returned to the trunk at the foot of her bed. There she crouched and dug deeper through the piles of paper, books, and folded clothes. _

"_An incredibly wealthy man to fall head over heels in love with me?" Yukari's gaze fell to the edge of her desk. Her wish list remained as extensive as her imaginary waiting list. Yet no matter how extensive her wish list got and no matter how much it changed, she could never imagine her top priority being anything but some form of financial gain. _

"_Get to that later. Right now, just settle for some brain food."_

_Saki stood back up and, with her right arm extended straight ahead of her, went back over to Yukari and thrust her hand, palm open and facing up, right under the girl's nose._

_Yukari lifted her head slightly and arched an eyebrow to the offering in Saki's palm. What she saw, a mere inch and a half away from her face, was a small, yellowish pill no larger than the diameter of a pencil eraser. _

"_What's this?"_

"_A little booster. I take it when I need to cram for something," Saki shrugged, readjusting the tablet to hold between her index finger and thumb._

"_So this is your secret?"_

"_I wouldn't call it that. A lot of students take it when they need to stay up late to study or whatever." _

"_I see."_

_Yukari opened her hand to accept the pill. As the pill was dropped into the center of her palm, she examined it as she would a potential doorway. All of her other options had been bled dry. She wanted to have fun but she also wanted to get her work done. If Saki's depiction of the pill was correct, then by taking it she would have the ability to work without actually having to work._

"_So then you're in for tonight?" Saki took her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled with anticipation. _

"_Yeah," Yukari nodded, curling her fingers over the pill, "I'm in."_

* * *

**(1): **"I...I am!" 

**Note:** Genenenenerereic.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I'm back. Should I have even bothered to update this story? These 26 chapters have taken me nearly a year to complete. Ah well. For what it's worth, enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Chiyo-chan leaned forward against her desk, pencil gripped tightly in her right hand. Along with the rest of the class that had formerly been under the supervision of Ms. Yukari Tanizaki, she was beginning to warm up to the new teacher.

Mr. Sato was young, not outwardly attractive but very nice and very patient. He usually came to his classes dressed more casually than other teachers in khaki pants and pressed, button-up shirts. However young he may have been, his black hair was thinning and his physique was threatened with frailty. He always carried with him a pocket dictionary and an extra handkerchief to clean his shoes with, no matter the day of the week. Very different from Yukari, he was an avid transcendentalist who loved to start thought-provoking conversation among his students. In his opinion, it wasn't enough for students to simply learn the hows and the whats of life, but that they should also wonder about the whys, even though those answers were rarely ever as clear.

Mr. Sato stood by the chalk board, chalk in his left hand touching to the board underneath a poorly rendered image of a frog in a pot.

"Can anyone tell me what we learn from this example?" he questioned the class with a curious grin.

For several moments the class was silent before an arm gradually extended above the others with five fingers pointed straight towards the ceiling.

Mr. Sato's gaze focused in on the arm and his expression softened when he registered the identity of the arm's owner.

Ayumu met the teacher's look with a blank one of her own. Seconds rolled on to an eternity while the various gears in her mind picked apart the existence of the frog as a comparison to the pot. The pot's existence was something irreversible and constant, very different from the variable amphibian. Her arm was kept suspended into the air like a trigger. If ignited, the trigger could reveal any number of theories depending on when it was touched.

Mr. Sato felt his lips quirk. Every profession had pros and cons, and Ayumu Kasuga was the type of student who reminded him of why he had chosen to become a teacher. Her methods of reasoning and drawing conclusions were not conventional, but she was a voracious intellectual appetite at work.

"Something that isn't how to cook frogs," he added with a playful downward arching of his brow.

Slowly Ayumu lowered her arm back to her desk.

The teacher turned his back to the board and folded his hands behind him. He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, scanning the class for another attempt.

"Anyone?" he prodded, "What does this frog's situation tell us?"

Yomi raised her hand and waited for the teacher's responding nod before lowering it once more.

"I think it's saying something about change and reaction," she ventured with the confident tone of a student who read ahead in text books.

"How so?"

"Like people notice big changes that happen quickly and they respond to them a lot faster, just like the frog jumping out of the boiling pot. But things don't usually change over night, and a lot of the time people don't even realize what's taking place."

"Very good," Mr. Sato nodded and walked around to the front of his desk. Leaning back against the desk, he folded his arms loosely. "As an example, say that there's a library that you go to every day. One day you go there to find all of the books missing. That's something that you would notice right away. However, you wouldn't notice right away if only one book disappeared per day. You would probably only realize that there were fewer books when half of the books were already gone."

Again Ayumu raised her hand and Mr. Sato recognized her with a lift of his eyes.

"So change," the girl began carefully, "It's something bad then?"

"Not necessarily. What's bad is the inability to notice and adapt. The important thing that you need to remember from this is that change is constant and you should be prepared for it. Don't expect anything to remain as it is forever. Fashion trends, laws, taboos, cities, societies, all change. Take a moment and look around at your classmates."

The students did so, each casting a momentary glance to those sitting beside and in front of them.

"Remember your classmates as they are now because I can guarantee you that they will be very different a few years from now."

"Is this going to be on the test," Tomo exclaimed as she thrust her hand into the air.

The teacher directed his gaze towards Tomo and watched her patiently.

Tomo remained sitting straight up with her arm rigid in the air and an expectant smile on her face. The clock on the wall ticked for fifteen seconds before her grin faded and her posture slumped, arm lowering back down to her desk. A moment later she raised her hand again and waited for Mr. Sato's friendly acknowledgment.

"Is this going to be on the test," she tried again in a more appropriate tone.

"No, the test will cover chapters eleven and twelve, including all vocabulary and two of the ten essay questions you were given last week. Yes?" He turned his attention towards the back of the room where another arm had risen.

"About the frog," the boy who had been called on folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward, "You're saying that it got boiled because it didn't notice the changing temperature. So how is it supposed to pay attention to something that it doesn't notice? No one can go around just looking at everything with the specific purpose of detecting change. There are too many variables and our time would be completely consumed."

"That's a good point, but I'm not exactly saying that the frog was boiled because it didn't notice the rising water temperature. It might have been that the frog noticed the change and either chose not to or didn't know how to react to it. Try not to see this in terms of the frog in the water. Focus more on the frog itself. Actually, just imagine that the frog is a person. The frog is a person living in the water pot of society. People react differently to change, and this is partially where we get into the Type A and Type B personalities."

At that moment the chime rang and signaled the end of another day. Students straightened from their slouched positions and began gathering papers and notebooks from their desks. Ayumu was the only one who continued to scribble notes furiously. If she paused for a moment then her entire train of thought would explode.

"Frog…water…change…Type A/B…boiling…" she mumbled the words as she wrote them before suddenly stabbing the tip of her pencil down into the paper. "No!" Her eyes went wide and her fingers clenched her writing utensil like a dagger, twisting it slightly. "What about intensity? What about a small change that happens quickly? Would it still matter as much?"

"Hey," Yomi approached the troubled girl and rested a hand to her shoulder. "Ease up, all right? He already said that it wasn't going to be on the test so it doesn't matter."

"But you don't understand! It's-"

"Who's up for a hamburger," Tomo, one hand holding her book bag slung over her shoulder, helped herself to perching on the side of Ayumu's desk.

"Speaking of things that don't matter," Yomi sighed and gave Tomo a forceful push back from the desk's surface.

"Real harsh, Yomi," Tomo retorted without a chance of her feelings having actually been hurt. She dropped her arms to her sides and smirked.

Ayumu slowly gathered her notebook together and slipped it into her bag along with her now broken-tipped pencil. Without a further word to the other girls she stood from her desk, grabbed her bag, and made her way from the classroom.

"Uh, Miss Osaka?" Chiyo-chan who had also stood up looked after the contemplative girl, but drew no response from her.

"Oh leave her alone. She'll come back to the Earth later," Tomo rolled her eyes before turning towards the back of the room. She waved her hand to get the attention of Kagura who was busily copying down notes she had borrowed from Sakaki. "Hey, Kagura! Hamburgers?"

Outside in the hallway, Ayumu walked along with the steady flow of students heading towards the stair well.

"_He said…He said that everything is in constant change."_

Down the stairs and out into the front area of the school yard she walked. She made it half way to the sidewalk before finally she could no longer think and walk at the same time. She paused in her tracks and tilted her head back to look up at the cloud-speckled sky.

"_Does that mean me too?"_

--------------

In the teacher's area, Nyamo sat quietly at her desk. Her gaze was fixed in front of her on the cover of her roll book, on both sides of which rested her hands. She had been sitting in such a position for fifteen minutes and had neither the motivation nor energy to move when she heard the last chime of the day.

In the row of desks behind her, Mr. Kimura too sat at his desk looking intensely at an open book in his hands. So intensely did he stare at the book that even his mouth had closed and behind his glasses his eyes had narrowed.

The door to the room opened and Mr. Sato walked in, carrying his textbooks under his arm. He went to his desk to set the books down and grab his briefcase from one of the bottom drawers. It had taken him forever to get the desk into a condition that he could work with. When he had at first seen the small space that was to be his work area, he hadn't thought that the vice principal was serious. However, after a few days of organizing books and cleaning out all the garbage from the drawers, he was able to use the space as easily as the other teachers used theirs.

As he lifted his briefcase, he cast a tentative glance towards Nyamo. For reasons that he didn't entirely understand, she was the only teacher who had given him a rather cold shoulder upon his arrival. She had not been outwardly mean to him in any fashion, but she had not made any attempt to get to know him and seemed rather indifferent to his presence. Her behavior contradicted what other teachers had said of her. He had expected that she would have been the first to wish him a pleasant experience at the school.

Rather than let the tension remain, he made the decision to break the ice, or at least make an attempt. He straightened, cleared his throat, and tightened his grip on his briefcase before stepping over to the woman's desk.

"Ms. Kurosawa," he started softly, lest that he startle her from whatever she had been thinking so deeply of.

Slowly Nyamo lifted her head. Mr. Sato was not someone she wished to speak with. It was nothing that she held personally against him, but it was difficult nonetheless to watch him come into the school and take Yukari's position. She wanted to blame him for what he was doing. His presence was only making things more difficult if Yukari were to ever get her job back, which she probably wouldn't. However, Nyamo was well aware of the way in which life worked. The world revolved around no individual. Mr. Sato had needed a job, and the school had had an opening.

"Yes?" she replied just as softly with a hint of open friendliness.

Mr. Sato faltered slightly. For a moment he could do nothing but look at the back of the woman's head and wonder what in the world he had had in mind.

"You look a little distant. Is something wrong?" He nearly stuttered the words and couldn't remember a time that he had sounded more unintelligent.

"No. I would just prefer to be left alone right now."

"Um…If this is about the other teacher, I mean the one whose…the one who was here before me…I heard you were good friends. I'm-"

"Please don't apologize for anything. Things happen, and I would like to think that they happen for a reason. From what I hear the students say, you're a very good teacher and they are lucky to have you," Nyamo replied concisely and without removing her gaze from the far wall. "But as I said before, I would prefer to be left alone right now."

Nyamo did try hard to believe that every event in life happened for the sake of a greater purpose, possibly a greater good, though sometimes it was difficult to see things in such a light. She still did not know for sure whether her actions so many years ago were the cause of Yukio's recent involvement in Yukari's life, but she knew well that Yukio followed up on his threats. As hard as she tried, she couldn't forget the day that everything had fallen apart in her life and the last remaining thread had been Yukari.

"All right then," Mr. Sato nodded slightly and stepped back, "But just remember that I'm here if you need anything."

"I'll do that. And thank you," Nyamo looked back down to the cover of her roll book. The color was a dark, forest green, somehow soothing on the eyes.

Mr. Sato took his leave of the room and Nyamo continued to sit passively at her desk, losing herself in thought. Unseen by either of the two teachers, Mr. Kimura momentarily peered over the top of his book.

-------------

"_You could have gotten a real guy to practice on ya know," Yukari sighed but kept her head tilted back._

"_Oh, be quiet. I promised you ice cream didn't I?"_

"_True, but you didn't have to do that. You could have just given me the money instead."_

"_This isn't your job," Nyamo replied, "Now scoot to the edge of the table."_

"_You can reach me fine from there!"_

"_It's awkward! This is hard enough as it is."_

"_Are you sure you don't want me to go find a guy for you?" Yukari smirked playfully, nonetheless inching towards the edge of the kitchen table where Minamo had told her to sit. Her knees came just to the sides of Minamo's hips, her fingers gripping the counter's edge._

"_Don't be an idiot. I can imagine how that conversation would go," Minamo grinned with one arching eyebrow. Her hands were lifted in front of her, fingers busy with a black neck tie that she attempted to fasten correctly around Yukari's neck. _

"_Hey! I have a great persuasive technique. You've seen it."_

"_Yeah, and I've seen you in the detention hall afterwards. The 'or else' method isn't always the best one."_

"_Like you would know. What do you do when you need something from someone?"_

"_I-"_

"_I'll tell you what you do. You're like 'Hey can you do this for me if it's not too much trouble? I'll do something for you in return.' So weak!"_

"_It's called asking for a favor and not treating the other person like it's their obligation to assist you."_

"_Like I said, it's weak. What're favors anyway?"_

"_They're-"_

"_I'll tell you what they are. They're crutches! When you ask for favors it's like you're telling the other person that in some way you are looking to depend on them. What you need to do is just say 'Hey! Do this!' That way they know that you're in control!"_

"_And if they say no?"_

"_Then you make their lives a living Hell until you get your way, even if making them miserable takes more effort than simply doing things yourself."_

"_Some philosophy. Hold still."_

_Minamo pursed her lips as she tried to worm her index finger and thumb out from the amateur knot she had made. The knot of the tie was too big and slightly crooked._

_Yukari looked down at the knot and could hardly keep from biting back a pleasant little smile. _

"_I want to complement you, Minamo. Really," as she spoke, her nod of approval looked absolutely serious. "What an accomplishment! This is really your finest moment yet. Congr-aght!"_

_The sarcastic quip was cut off by Minamo's quick fingers that loosened the tie and tightened it farther up against Yukari's throat.

* * *

_

**Note:** Whew. I mean really…Does anyone even remember this story? 


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** Mad Pierrot, you are correct in saying that the ending is a very important part of a story, but in this case, the end of Control is not the end of the story. Yes, I am involving things in this story which may seem rather out of place, and that is because their place is in the next story that unfortunately might not be appearing on fanfiction dot net due to content that cannot be cut. I won't give too much away because it's still in the works, but yes, Kimura is (and has been) up to something very bad, Osaka has (and will acquire) some deep-rooted problems, and the death of the created-character, Kano, is more significant than I am currently making it to be, as is the girl who was curled up in Kiyoshi's apartment in Chapter 21.

**Warning:** I really tried my best to tone this chapter down, but it still contains graphic language and depictions of not-entirely-consensual sex. I left in as much as I could to still have the scenes make sense, but it seems kind of choppy towards the end.

* * *

**Chapter 27**

"Ms. Tanizaki."

Yukari snorted and cracked her eyes open. It never failed that as soon as she calmed down enough to catch a few hours of sleep she was interrupted by someone wanting something from her. Her vision was slow to focus, but when it did she saw leaning over her the elderly face of the recent shift nurse.

"Mmph…Go 'way," she muttered and pulled the sheets up over her head.

"Your parents are here to see you."

Gradually the sheets came back down and Yukari stared up at the woman like a condemned victim in a horror film.

"Tell them I died."

"I'm afraid that I can't do that," the nurse laughed softly, "Shall I send them in?"

"You're going to anyway, aren't you?"

"It's either that or they stay out in the hallway until visiting hours are over."

"Sounds good to me."

Yukari shifted over to face her back to the room. She closed her eyes and brought the sheets up under her chin. It would have been nice if the hospital had taken the hint when she had refused to give them any contact information for her immediate family.

"Ms. Tanizaki," the nurse sighed and straightened up, "Won't you at least-"

Suddenly the door to the room was slammed open and Mrs. Tanizaki stepped in, looking more like a raging bull than a mother whose daughter was in the hospital. Her shoulders were squared and her eyes were bright with the demand for answers. Time had been rather kind to her, and at fifty years of age, despite a few wrinkles and grey hairs, she retained a certain energy that most people lost around age forty. Only those who had been around her long enough would know that being worried sick consequently made her angry.

"Yukari!"

"Awww!" Yukari growled and turned over onto her back again. With most of her body still in a non-functioning condition it wasn't as though she could simply get up and walk away from whatever ranting her mother decided to lay upon her this time. She pushed up into the highest sitting position she could manage and cast the other woman a dejected glare.

"Well," the nurse interjected before the tension in the room became too thick, "I'll be out at the nurse's station if you need anything." With that, she took her leave of the room, slipping past Mrs. Tanizaki and her husband who stood just behind her.

Mr. Tanizaki nodded his head to the nurse as she passed. For his age he looked far worse than his wife, due to a lifetime of toil and worry. His hair was quite thin and he walked with a slight hunch in his back. He was tired everyday, and that he lived with a woman such as Mrs. Tanizaki did much to contribute to his sensitivity towards loud noises.

Yukari narrowed her eyes at her mother and father. There was no way that she would be able to explain to them what had been going on. The ruined condition house, the nearly totaled condition of the car, all the stolen appliances, and above all, herself. They could never be allowed to know the truth. She would have to think good and fast if she was going to save face this time. Luckily she had years of experience in the ways of constructing believable inconsistencies in a short amount of time. There had been so much about her life that her parents had never known, and if she could, then she would have it stay that way for the rest of their waking days.

"You just say the word, Yukari," her mother began as she rushed across the room to the bedside. She leaned over the bed and bought Yukari as far and as tightly into her arms as she could get her, which was significantly far enough to cause Yukari's face to contort with pain. "Say the word and I'll have every single son of a bitch who did this to you hanging by their thumbs!"

Yukari bared her teeth in an angry grimace. She knew that her mother was aware that she hated any sign of actual affection. Hugging was definitely no exception. She managed to set her hands to the other woman's shoulders and push her away. Mother or not, no one was simply allowed to hug her without prior authorization.

It was only when she had her mother at arm's length that Yukari was able get a better look and see the tears that had collected in the midst of her otherwise infuriated expression.

A bit taken aback by this, Yukari sighed and dropped her hands away. It was her own pride and self delusions that had landed her there in that bed in the first place. If she had been a better person then she would still have a job and a decent life. Slowly she turned her attention from her parents and looked at her hands in her lap.

"Yukari," her father spoke up and came around to the other side of the bed. He shifted his weight awkwardly, his hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets with the right hand jingling the loose change he found there. Being a rather reserved man, he had no idea what to say or how to act in such a situation, but his codes of conduct couldn't keep him from loving his daughter. "The doctors told us most of what happened, but there were things that they didn't know. We would like to hear those things from you."

"I didn't give them permission to tell you anything," Yukari's voice broke to a whisper. Though her expression remained set in anger, she found herself fighting tears at the same time and refused to look up from her hands. She couldn't remember a time that she had felt more ashamed, or rather had a reason to feel more ashamed. Out of all the trouble that she had gotten into and caused throughout her life, this was the first time that the consequences of her actions had made a definite impact on her. She didn't want to think about the truth of her situation. For so many years she had simply been sweeping her dirt under the mat, and the last thing she wanted to do was lift that mat up and expose the dirt to her parents, of all people.

Mrs. Tanizaki took Yukari's face between her hands and forced her to look up. She didn't expect Yukari to understand her situation as a mother. At least not yet. The call from the hospital had driven a desperate fear into her, one that had been there for a long time. She was almost surprised that the call hadn't come any year sooner.

"Yukari, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't angry with you. You've done some damn stupid things in your life and a lot of the time you left me feeling like a bad mother. You've never opened up about yourself and I never had any idea what to do with you. When you were a teenager you don't know how many times I wished that you could just be like other girls. I wanted you to giggle over boys, bring home kittens and ask if you could keep them, enjoy romance movies, have too many friends over, talk on the phone for hours, and do all the stuff that I heard the other mothers saying that their daughters did. Instead you spent most of your time cooped up in your room, and whenever you did go out there would usually be a report on the news later about whatever kind of havoc you had wreaked. You were, and are, the biggest pain in the ass that I have ever known, but I love you more than anything else on this Earth. If anything ever happened to you I'd just shut down and die myself, but you're here and you're alive, and I am so thankful that I can tell you now just how much I love you. Whatever brought you here could never make either your father nor me love you any less. You don't understand it yet, but as parents we just want to know what happened to our little girl."

Yukari half choked on a sob and lifted her hands to her mother's forearms. Closing her eyes tightly, she lowered her head and let the tears fall as they would. She hated her parents for having caught her in such a vulnerable position, and she still wasn't sure whether she would tell them the truth or not. It did feel good, however, to know that their love was unconditional. Unconditional love was what she required if she was to receive any kind of love at all.

Mrs. Tanizaki brought her arms around her daughter's shoulders and was surprised when Yukari made no attempt to pry away. It was the first hug in years, and perhaps the first one period, that Yukari had allowed without a struggle.

--------------------

Nyamo stepped into her apartment and let the door fall shut behind her. Her bag was dropped by the threshold, as was her wet umbrella and jacket. It had been one week and three days since she had left Yukari at the hospital and only now was she beginning to slip back into the lifestyle she had abandoned so many months ago. She slipped out of her shoes and crossed the room to her dresser. A fresh tank top and cotton pajama pants were what she pulled from the middle drawer before heading into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

After a long day of counting minutes, there was no greater comfort to the weary athletics teacher than the ability to return to the familiar confines of her home. It was her corner of the world, and though it was small and held nothing but the essentials, it was still her own safe place. Every person carried the belief that being in their homes meant that nothing bad could ever happen to them. Their homes were their fortresses, and right now that thought provided Nyamo with a small sense of security that she needed to feel.

Half an hour later she emerged from the bathroom, ruffling a towel through her hair. Her day clothes had been exchanged for her night ones, and after tossing the towel over the back of a chair, she made a bee-line for her bed. The covers were lifted and she slipped down beneath them.

Tired though she was, she knew better than to expect sleep any time soon. Nightmares were not a very big problem for her, but ruminating was, and in her experience with the two she had found the latter to be far worse. Night time was the time for sleep, and to be kept awake by concerns over matters that couldn't be immediately controlled was awful on an individual's state of mind. Along with those concerns came a definite sense of helplessness. When nothing could be physically done right at the moment of worry, a person became quite aware of their own limitations and of the precariousness of the situations that life dealt. Often in the past, the simple facts of life, or as she liked to think of them, the 'true' cost of living, had been enough to keep her awake. Now she wasn't only concerned with the present, but the past as well. At least nightmares were things that people woke up from. For a person like her who was stretched thin with stress, sleep was the only relief from the nightmare.

After a few minutes she forced herself to close her eyes and turned over onto her side.

"Everything is fine," she whispered the words to herself, a small mantra that if she repeated enough times in her head, she hoped that she would begin to believe.

"_But I'll bet you remember this."_

Her eyes shot open at the unbidden presence of Yukio's voice. For over a week she had been going through the same thing, dealing with bits and pieces of her past relationship with him. There were many details that by this time she did not remember, and though she hated to even think of that period in her life, she was still very confused and very angry that the man who had turned her into a prisoner in her own home was once again rearing his head. Every time she closed her eyes she could either hear his voice or see his face. The only thing that she couldn't predict about this occurrence was which side of him she would remember next. He had not always been such a monster.

A flash of lightening briefly illuminated the room in dull blue before flickering out. The storm outside was reaching its pinnacle, the raindrops beginning to sound loudly against the window by the bed.

"Bastard…"

Nyamo threw the covers to the side and got from the bed. She would not force herself to sleep this time when her mind clearly didn't want to. If she stayed up all night, then that's simply what would happen.

She turned on the lamp on the bed side table and then crossed the room to her closet. The closet door was swung open and she reached inside to switch on the small overhead light.

"_I'm Yukio, as I guess you already know. I've heard a lot about you."_

"I bet you did," she replied to the old memory as she looked up over the closet's contents.

The closet was not exactly organized to a particular science, but everything had its place and she knew where almost everything was. Jackets and other winter clothes were on the left side, followed then by her athletic outfits that she wore for work, and then came all the other miscellaneous items that she hardly ever wore at all. Above the rack of clothes was a single shelf that ran the entire length of the space, and on the shelf were several cardboard boxes. It was the box all the way to the right side that she reached for, and with much difficulty, managed to wedge down from its spot.

"_I know it was kind of a set up, but I'm really starting to like you, Minamo."_

"And I believed you," she muttered and set the box on the floor.

The box was not secured at the top so she only needed to pull back the fours flaps to reveal the contents inside. Old folders, files, and books that she had finished reading a long time ago were arranged on top. She pulled these items out to uncover a few stacks of CDs and an envelope of post cards that her parents had sent her from their trip to Thailand, each one dated 1990. After the postcards she withdrew an array of items ranging from old college transcripts, medals from her swim team days, old notebooks, one of her father's calligraphy sets, and a coffee mug she had gotten in Hokkaido. Below all of these items was a worn out shoe box. The top of the shoe box was torn at all four corners, and instead of fitting to the box it laid flat on top of it.

Nyamo lifted the shoe box carefully and walked on her knees with it back across the room. She turned and sat on the floor beside the bed, putting the box down in front of her. Lifting the box's lid, she uncovered stacks upon stacks of photographs. Similar to her closet, the pictures weren't arranged in any particular fashion, and yet they had not been set into the box at random. There were pictures of her parents, college friends, classmates, travel pictures, pets, places, coworkers, and even some others that she had no recollection of. The only thing that the pictures had in common was that they were all very dated. She remembered setting the pictures into the box when she had moved from her parents' house, and the box had not been opened since.

She brought up the first stack of pictures and sifted through several of them. There was nothing of particular interest among them, and it was the same with the second stack. Amid the third stack, one picture caught her attention and she paused a moment to separate it from the others. It was a picture of Yukari from their days in college. The obviously intoxicated young woman was sandwiched between two equally drunk foreign men, all three giving goofy smiles to the camera. In the back round there was a crowd of people engaged in similar activities, their dancing motions having caused a blurred effect. The lighting in the image was not good, and the image itself was offset as though it had been taken without much thought, and indeed Nyamo remembered that it had.

"_Yukari!" Nyamo wedged her way through the mass of gyrating bodies to the spot on the dance floor where she had last seen the rambunctious woman._

_Yukari was exactly where she had been left, grinding away like the drunken idiot she was. She was smiling openly, her arms lifted to circle around the neck of the man who stood behind her. The man gripped his hands to her hips and kept her pulled back against him as they moved in a heavy, humping motion. No sooner did Nyamo approach the temporary couple than another man moved in, edging his way in front. _

_Nyamo caught herself smirking to the sight. It was obvious that Yukari's codes for physical affection did not apply to the dance floor. Previously she remembered Yukari dancing closely with a man for five hours, and yet she went berserk when the same man tried to give her a hug goodbye out on the sidewalk._

"_What is it?" Yukari shouted back above the din of techno music. Without missing a beat, she reached out and grabbed the second man by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close against her. The man stepped forward and placed one of his legs between hers, easily fitting in to the undulating motion of her body._

"_It's two in the morning! Time to go!' _

"_Are you crazy? I just got started!"_

"_You got started four hours ago! Now come on!"_

"_Hold on, I love these guys! Take our picture!"_

_Nyamo sighed, but nonetheless slipped out the small camera that Yukari had told her to bring for just such an occasion. Yukari seemed to fall in love at least three times whenever she came to a club and got drunk enough. _

_Yukari and the two men paused in their would-be orgy as the camera was lifted. They were given only a moment to flash their best smiles before Nyamo snapped the picture._

_Once the picture was taken, Nyamo tucked the camera back into her pocket. As soon as she did this, Yukari and her dance partners went right back to what they were doing as though no mention of leaving had ever been made. _

"_Yukari!" Nyamo's voice took on a definite sense of annoyance. She didn't like going to dance clubs in the first place. The only reason she ever went to them at all was because Yukari thoroughly enjoyed them, and she didn't want her friend getting smashed and going home with anyone she didn't know. _

"_Why don't you go on ahead? I'll catch up later!" Yukari replied, raising her hands up to the shoulders of the man in front of her. The man smiled and curled his fingers into the material of Yukari's skirt. _

"_I don't think so," Nyamo frowned and grabbed Yukari's hand. With one forceful yank she dragged the bouncing form out from between the two larger ones. _

Nyamo cracked a small grin and shook her head at the image. The picture beneath it, she remembered, had been taken on the same night of herself. She had been out on the sidewalk at the time, caught in mid step with an annoyed look on her face. The open position of her mouth indicated that she had been saying something, and her right arm was stretched forward towards the camera. The picture after it was one of Yukari, fast asleep on the floor of her dormitory bathroom with a bottle of shampoo clutched against her chest. There were a lot of people who didn't make it through college without such a picture being taken of them, but having one of Yukari like that was nothing special. Nyamo had quite a number of them.

The more stacks that Nyamo sifted through, the further back in time the images became. The fourth stack contained pictures from her high school days. One of the pictures was a group shot from her last year on the swim team. All the team members were lined up by the side of the pool in their bathing suits and caps with the coach standing off to the left. The picture after it was of Nyamo and her old friend Ayame. The girls were side by side in the pool with their swim goggles pushed up on their foreheads and arms folded on the edge of the deck, both smiling up at the camera. The last few pictures from the stack were rather indiscernible. There was one blurred image of a leg and foot, another of a ceiling, then one of a chalkboard, and still another that almost looked like half of Yukari's face.

In all there were nine different stacks of photos, each one from a different time. It was the eighth and ninth stacks that Nyamo spent most of her time on. They were photos that she had not looked at or thought of in many years, taken from her pre and early high school days. Most of them had been taken before she knew Yukari. Before there had been Yukari, there had been Yukio.

The first picture of him she came across had been taken outside of her house on a sunny day. The image depicted Yukio and herself locked in a playful embrace, her cheek pressing against his chest as she smiled. Yukio was smiling too, a genuine, good-natured expression.

Nyamo felt her eyebrow twitch. She remembered the day that the picture had been taken. Her parents had planned a day trip to Kamakura Beach and had invited Yukio along. At that point in time they had been comfortable friends.

"_Smile, kids!" Mr. Kurosawa raised the camera and aimed it at the two teenagers who had just walked from the house._

_When Minamo looked up and saw that her father had taken the camera out, she immediately raised the duffle bag she was carrying and held it against her face. _

"_Dad, it's too early for pictures!"_

"_Come on, Minamo," Yukio laughed and dropped his own bag that he had been carrying. He grabbed the other side of Minamo's duffle bag in an attempt to pull it away from the girl. There were some girls who lost their tempers too quickly, but not Minamo. She was more laid back and actually a lot of fun to tease. "It's never too early for pictures."_

"_Hey!" Minamo squealed when she felt her grip on the bag beginning to come loose, "Whose side are you on?" A game of tug of war would have been futile. Yukio was much stronger than she was and she didn't want to end up with a torn duffle bag. She waited until the boy was in mid tug before suddenly letting go._

_Yukio stumbled back with the bag, but he didn't quite lose enough of his balance to fall. He caught his step and let the bag drop to the ground beside him._

"_On the winning side, of course. What's wrong with a picture? Just one measly picture for the father who raised you?" he replied and approached the girl. Minamo backed up but he caught her by the wrists before she got too far and then turned her to face the camera. _

"_You don't understand! He takes pictures of everything all the time. If he gets one picture, then he'll want another, and another, and another because he's never satisfied and then it'll take us forever to get out of here!"_

"_Now, Minamo that's not true. Let me get one picture and then we'll be off," her father spoke up, following the two with the camera lens to try and get a good shot. _

"_Can't you wait until we're there?" Minamo complained as she struggled against the larger form behind her. She managed to worm herself around until her back was to the camera, but since Yukio didn't let go of her arms she ended up in a rather tangled position against him._

"_We'll take plenty of pictures when we're there. I just want one now to start us off," Mr. Kurosawa chuckled softly. _

"_How about now, Mr. Kurosawa? This'll be a great shot!" Yukio motioned to the struggling Minamo who shot a glance over her shoulder at her father._

"_No! Don't you dare!"_

_Instead trying to force herself into a more appropriate position, Minamo let her legs go limp until Yukio had no choice but to let her go unless he wanted to bear the brunt of her weight in his arms. Her plan worked, but only for a moment before the boy readjusted his grip and his stance, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Soon she found herself taken back up from the ground and folded into a playful bear hug. If her father was really set on getting a picture, she at least decided that a hugging shot was better than an unflattering butt shot. She clasped her arms around the boy and turned her face to the camera with an exaggerated smile, already knowing that the picture would not be her best one. _

_Mr. Kurosawa took aim, and shot. _

Nyamo flipped the picture to the bottom of the stack. The next picture had been taken only minutes after the first one. Yukio had lifted her from the ground and her hands had gripped his shoulders for support. The third picture portrayed Yukio laying flat on the grass and herself grabbing up her duffle bag, flashing a peace sign to the camera. She couldn't say that the day had not been a good one. She and Yukio had been genuinely good friends, and in the beginning she had not minded the time that she had spent with him.

After sifting through the rest of the stack, she finally came to the one picture that she had originally been looking for when she started her search. The other pictures of Yukio were inconsequential to her. She had kept them more because her father had taken them, not because of Yukio himself. The fourth picture, however, carried an entirely different significance. Unlike the other pictures, she remembered almost every detail of when, where, and how the image had come into existence. She remembered what had been said, what she had been feeling, and what had been going on before and after the picture had been taken.

The image was of Yukio and herself. It had been taken in the park by her old neighborhood on a Tuesday afternoon after she had come home from school. She was standing on a stone path and Yukio was standing behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her arms and shoulders. The length of his hair had been cut short and he looked as though he had not shaved in several days. Only half of his shirt tail was tucked into his jeans, and both of his shoes were untied. Nyamo herself had just come from swim practice and was wearing a simple pair of denim shorts, a dark green top, and sandals. Her hair was pulled back into a small pony tail and her head canted slightly as she smiled to the camera, hands lifted and gripping Yukio's forearms. Yukio too was smiling, and to anyone looking on they looked like a perfectly happy and healthy couple.

For several minutes Nyamo stared hard at the picture. The old image of herself gave no indication of how truly miserable she had been at the time. She remembered smiling and playing her part for the camera, just as she had smiled and played her part for everyone else.

_Minamo quietly slipped out from beneath the sheets of her bed. It was growing dark and she had promised to meet Yukari at the station to go see the local fire works display. She turned and set her feet on the floor, but as soon as she moved to push herself up, an arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her back down._

"_Where do ya think you're going?" Yukio's voice was husky with a post-sex edge. Lazily he shifted onto his side and dragged the girl back against him. _

_Minamo cringed as she felt herself being drawn back. As usual she could hear the voice in the back of her mind screaming for her to make some kind of a protest, but again she ignored it and allowed herself to be pulled. _

"_I told Yukari that I'd meet her somewhere tonight," she replied softly. She laid down on her back beside Yukio and made no further move towards him. _

_Yukio scoffed and rolled his weight over on top of his girlfriend._

"_When do I get to meet this girl? Ever since you met her you've been spending less time with me," he tilted his head and kissed the side of her neck. _

_Minamo closed her eyes tightly and turned her face away. She pressed her hands upwards against his shoulders in the hopes that he would take the hint and let her up. _

"_Some day, I promise," she whispered. In reality she didn't want Yukio going anywhere near Yukari. They were two very different people who knew her in two very different ways, and Yukio was not at all a safe man to mess with. _

_Yukio frowned when he felt those hands pushing against him. He lifted up and grabbed her by the wrists, pinning them down to the mattress._

"_What the Hell is this?" his tone deepened with anger, "You think you're pushing me off? Is that what you want?"_

"_No, I just-"_

"_Because that's what it feels like! What the fuck did I tell you! Your friend is that great to you that you think you can just brush me off?"_

"_I'm sorry," Minamo replied softly. In times like these she knew better than to protest or argue. Yukio's temper was notoriously explosive and his behavior was very erratic when he was upset. _

_Yukio struck one of Minamo's legs to the side and pushed himself between them. _

"_Sometimes I think you just don't appreciate it. Lift your fuckin' legs!" he shouted inches away from her face. _

_Minamo started, but obediently bent her knees and lifted her feet from the mattress. Everything felt wrong, and yet by that time it also felt familiar. She had come to expect his words, and his hard touch. She expected, and accepted them. Yukio seemed to be the one thing that her parents had wanted for her, and they were very proud of him and his academic accomplishments. _

_Yukio jerked forward and impaled the girl with his partially lubricated erection, taking pleasure alone from the look on her face._

_Minamo bit her lip and dug her finger nails against her palms, but not a sound did she make as the large man partook of her for the second time that night. She was envious of other couples who could argue with words. Yukio wasn't good at expressing himself verbally, so his usual resorts were of the physical kind. _

"_That's it," he sneered down at the girl, "I'm gonna cut my name across that filthy face of yours. Dirty cunt. Right when I'm done." He slammed himself so hard and fast against her that the entire bed seemed to vibrate against the wall. _

_Minamo locked herself into a set position, in no way returning the thrusts that forced her down into the mattress. She kept as still and as quiet as possible in the hopes that Yukio would finish quickly. He wasn't always so angry, but he was usually just as psychotic in the things that he said. He did say a lot of things, and she could never be sure of just how serious he was. _

"_Such a nasty slut…I bet you'd like it if I did that," his grin faded and he brought his face down to the side of her neck. "Wouldn't you like it? If I shoved my knife into that little cunny of yours. Huh? I'll get you pissin' meat for a week. Little bitch!" As he spoke he sank his teeth viciously into the soft skin of her throat. _

_Minamo whimpered and turned her face as far to the side as she could. The area between her legs was beginning to burn with the high amount of friction as the last of the lubricant seemed to wear away. Still she made sure to keep her feet in the air and her thighs spread wide. _

_Yukio lifted back up and transferred the grip of one hand to clench tightly around her throat. _

_At once, Minamo's collected demeanor was shattered as her air supply was cut off. She lifted her one free hand and tugged desperately at Yukio's fingers. _

"_Yukio!" her voice could only raise to half its normal volume, though she physically screamed as loud as she could._

"_That's right, scream! You better scream for your fuckin' worthless life!" the man hissed and further compressed his fingers against her wind pipe. _

_Seconds drew on and Minamo felt her face grow red. Her heart was ready to explode and she was getting dizzier by the moment. Just when she felt herself begin to pass out, the pressure from her neck was released. _

_Yukio lifted his hand and yanked himself out from inside the girl. He then shifted up to kneel on the bed beside her, one hand jerking at himself while the other ducked down between Minamo's legs and hooked two fingers roughly into her. _

"_Fuckin' whore…Yeah, you like it," his words became strained before they faded out and gave way to a series of wolfish grunts. His hips continued to jerk against his hand as he began to shoot off his load all over Minamo's face. _

_Minamo was only glad that he had not demanded that she keep her eyes open this time. She felt the first of several hot strands land across her face. The first one spilled against her cheek, then the next two across her lips and chin. _

_When he had finished, Yukio slouched down and shoved his girlfriend from the bed. _

"_Get outta here. If your friend is so goddamn important to you…"_

_Minamo wasted no time. She scrambled up from the floor and made for the bathroom to get cleaned up._

Nyamo took a last look to the picture in her hand before tossing it back into the box where it belonged. It was a stilled depiction of a different time and a different life. The picture had been taken to tell its lie, and a very good lie it told. She herself had even assisted in telling it. She and Yukio, a wonderful match made by the desires of parents who wanted nothing but the best for their children. Thus, the picture had been taken, and three days later she had called the police.

--------------------

"_Yukari! You heard what happened right?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_It's Couch Mutsu! He made you go in the pool last week, remember?"_

"_Shut up about it! Just what the Hell're you saying!"_

"_I'm saying that I saw him packing his office up this morning."_

"_Really? Heh. Serves him right."_

* * *

**Note: **This chapter was a monster to write. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note: **This chapter seems kind of touchy because it alludes to the part in Chapter 4 that I had to cut. Not a big deal though. Don't think me a psycho for including suggestions of femininity that are _not_ pink dresses and flowers. Details kept to a minimum.

* * *

**Control 28**

_Nyamo glanced at her watch and then to the destination map above the double doors of the train. Only three more stops before she could bring the evening to an official close. She shouldn't have gone out at all that night, but it had been for a particularly special cause. _

_The weight against her right shoulder shifted and she averted her gaze to it. _

_Yukari slept soundly and ungracefully, her cheeks gently reddened with the effects of previously consumed alcohol. Her mouth was slightly open and she snored in a soft, rhythmic pattern. Her left arm was pressed between Nyamo and herself while her right one was draped over the box of an inflatable shark that was her birthday present. _

_For Yukari's birthday, Nyamo had known better than to go out and try to find a gift that Yukari would like. She knew that Yukari didn't like to waste space in her room with things that she didn't want, and she herself did not want to get her friend anything that she wouldn't put to use. Instead, as she had been doing for the past several years, she took Yukari out for dinner and a shopping trip which usually landed them in the Harajuku toy store. There she gave Yukari a price range and Yukari got to choose whatever she wanted. In this year's case, the inflatable shark had been the immediate eye-catcher. _

_When the train began its approach to her stop, Nyamo nudged Yukari with her shoulder._

"_Hey, wake up," she said softly. _

"_Huh?" Yukari snorted and opened her eyes._

"_My stop's coming up."_

"_Oh."_

_Yukari straightened up and stretched her back into an arch. She laced her fingers together and extended her arms outward with a yawn before relaxing again. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back against the seat._

_As the train slowed down, Nyamo stood up and held onto one of the plastic rings dangling down from the roof. She looked down at her friend who seemed to have had no trouble getting herself resituated into a position that made it easy for her to sleep. Yukari was still noticeably drunk and Nyamo suddenly felt wary about leaving her alone. _

"_Are you going to be all right getting home?" she asked. _

_Yukari opened her eyes and frowned. At twenty-two years old, she was getting rather tired of people always assuming that she needed assistance in certain areas. She didn't know what hints she was giving off that indicated a need for such help, but whenever it happened it made her feel as though the other person deemed her inferior. Nyamo was a constant perpetrator when it came to this, and often times it only pissed Yukari off more when Nyamo's assumptions of her ended up keeping her out of trouble after all. _

"_I'm an adult, ya know. I'm pretty sure that I can manage," she replied bluntly._

"_I see," Nyamo sighed, "Will you at least give me a call when you get home?"_

"_What're you, my mom now? I'll be fine! I don't need people hanging over my shoulder every minute to make sure that I don't keel over and die!"_

"_All right, all right."_

_Nyamo stepped to the doors as the train came to a stop at the station platform. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, she gripped her keys into her right hand to confirm that she had not left them on the seat._

_Yukari watched her friend for a moment, her frown growing slightly softer. As much as she didn't like being patronized, she wasn't so ignorant that she couldn't associate Nyamo's behavior as being simple concern for a friend. _

"_Hey," she spoke up._

_Nyamo glanced over to the other woman just as the train doors slid open and several people from behind her stepped out._

"_Yes?" she replied._

"_Not next weekend, but the one after…Wanna hang out?"_

_Nyamo cracked a small grin. She knew Yukari well enough to know that the invitation was actually an apology, and the most direct one that she could have expected. As subtle as the apology was, it was at least enough to let her know that Yukari had not mistaken her for being condescending. _

"_Yeah," she replied, "I'll probably be around."_

_Later that night, Yukari pushed open the door to her dorm room._

_Inside the room, Saki sat on her bed with a mutual friend of theirs. Saki was awake but the other girl was passed out, mostly concealed beneath the bed sheets. Scattered around the room were several empty beer bottles, half-eaten bags of cookies and potato chips, strips of wax paper, a bottle of water, three lighters, flattened squares of foil that had once been wrapped around chocolate Kisses, several CD cases that had scratches all over them, a hot plate, and a few small plastic containers filled with something that looked like broken, brown peanut brittle._

_Yukari closed the door behind her and went over to her own bed, setting down her gift from Nyamo. Looking at the other two girls, she smirked._

"_Looks like I wasn't the only one having a party tonight," she said, flopping back onto her mattress._

_It was several seconds before Saki managed to look at her roommate and reply "Hey, Yukari. C'mere."_

"_All the way over there?" Yukari said with a frown. She was comfortably drunk and on the soft edge of sleep, not willing to break her buzz for another trick._

"_I got your present."_

"_Wow. You remembered my birthday."_

_For the next fifteen minutes there came no response. Yukari closed her eyes and had just begun to drift off before she was dragged back into wakefulness by the sound of Saki's voice._

"_Come here," said Saki again as she reached under her pillow for a small item, "I said I got something for you."_

"_You didn't tell me that."_

_Saki dragged herself up from her bed and stood with her arms hanging limp. The fingers of her right hand barely managed to maintain their grip on the small plastic bag between them._

"_Look at this. I'm crawling mountains," she whispered. _

"_You're fucked up," Yukari snorted, watching the other girl with amusement. This was the first time in over two weeks that she actually been able to watch her roommate in the midst of a drawling high without being in one herself. _

"_I had a dream about red," Saki whispered, "Thick and juicy, ya know? Like…I dunno…Drooling…"_

_Yukari closed her eyes with a smug little grin. _

_Ten minutes after Saki had stood up, Yukari was once again disturbed from her rest by Saki's weight falling down onto the mattress beside her. She opened her eyes and saw Saki's face resting on the pillow mere inches away from her own._

"_This is for you," Saki said gently. She reached down and took Yukari's hand, transplanting her gift at the same time. _

_Yukari lifted her hand and examined the new object she found there, a small baggie inside of which were several broken pills. She was silent for a minute before looking past the bag to her roommate who hadn't blinked the entire time._

"_And this is?" she inquired._

"_Call it my little mess."_

"_Mm…favorite," Yukari whispered, lips pulling into a cat-like grin, "Where'd you get it?"_

"_I got a doctor. It's clean, trust me."_

"_If I cared, I probably still would."_

_Saki reached for the bag and took it between her thumbs and index fingers. Opening the bag, she poured one of the pills onto her palm and then held it up for Yukari._

"_Open," she said._

_Yukari complied, opening her mouth to accept the pill that was subsequently placed on the very tip of her tongue. _

_After administering the med, Saki resealed the plastic bag and tucked it safely under Yukari's pillow. She then inched forward until she could press herself fully up against her roommate, draping one arm and one leg over her._

"_This is our last semester," she said, "What're you gonna do when you graduate?"_

"_Do whatever."_

_Having gulped the pill, Yukari turned fully onto her back and folded her arms beneath her head. Combined with the effects of alcohol, it wasn't long before her head began to swim, the sensation rocking her with a gentleness that a mother would have shone to her favorite child. _

"_I wanna try again," Saki murmured, her voice barely audible now above the hum of the air conditioner. _

"_Hm?"_

"_Don't you? It's downhill from here."_

_Yukari's grin faded. She looked towards the ceiling and watched as it slowly withdrew into itself. In the spot right above her bed, a tiny hole warped open like a miniature whirlpool and began to churn in a clockwise circle. As the vortex grew bigger, the ceiling surrounding it began to invert into the space, reminding Yukari of a milkshake in a blender. _

_Yukari wasn't sure what Saki had just said to her, but on some level her mind had already agreed to the statement. She did want to try again, but not only college. If she could, she would have taken back every single thing that she had ever done and said. _

_The spinning vortex above her head began to warp and warble like a funnel-shaped jello mold. Suddenly the center of it fell out and formed a stalactite, down from which seemed to drip a slimy substance. _

_Yukari screamed and rolled away one second too late to avoid getting hit by the imagery. She fell from the side of the bed, dragging the sheets with her. From the spot on her chest where she had felt the hallucination make contact, a tingling sensation fanned outward over her stomach and shoulders. Thrashing her arms to toss the bed sheets away, she looked down and noticed that her skin was rippling as though a pebble had been dropped into the pond that was her body._

"_Saki!" she shouted and scrambled up to her feet. Flattening her back and palms to the wall, she glared down at her roommate. "That…wasn't…"_

_During the few times that she had previously taken the drug that Saki had just given her, she had never experienced anything but a pleasurable, rolling numbness. With her prior experience, she was able to deduce with confidence the fact that she had been given a laced inductor. _

_Saki blinked and lifted up on an elbow. Instead of laughing as had been her plan, her eyes went wide and she looked at something level with Yukari's legs._

"_Holy shit," she said, a mixture of fear and awe crossing over her face, "My dream!"_

_Rigid with a high amount of fear herself, Yukari tucked her chin inward and directed her gaze down to see what Saki was so fascinated with. _

_There she spotted a wicked creature that had crept from under the hem of her skirt. Slinking down the inner side of her right leg, a single red streak had rolled a path that ended as a stain in the top of her sock._

* * *

The dealer sat hunched over in a seat on an empty subway platform, waiting for the last train of the night that would take him to Tokyo station. From Tokyo station he planned a quick ride on the Shinkansen back to his home city of Osaka. Just the previous day he had finally accumulated enough money for the trip.

Ever since taking his leave of Kiyoshi's care, the condition of the dealer's body had not gotten any better, but neither had it gotten any worse. He remained stable, albeit in constant pain. The jeans and jacket that Kiyoshi had lent him did well to conceal the majority of his injuries, excepting those on his face and down the side of his neck. Beneath the clothes, he was heavily bandaged all the way from his leg up to his shoulder. His broken leg had been set into a homemade cast that had so far been working fairly decently.

The dealer lifted a hand and scratched the back of his head, seeming not to notice the way that his knees bounced in an action beyond his control. His shoulders were slumped and his back was canted at an odd angle to relieve some of the stress on his healing skin.

Thinking about the open wounds was enough to bring him to the cusp of physical illness. The possibility of infection was incredibly high, and for the past few days he had not even been able to clean himself up. He was a scathing mess, presently feeling the effects of a random white grain he had pilfered from a sleeping homeless man. The substance had to have been tainted in some way because it had brought him under the direct impression that the bacteria from the seat was creeping through the fabric of his jeans and into his wounds to eat him alive.

Looking up from his legs, the dealer leaned forward to check the current time. 12:30 AM was the last train, and the clock on the platform read 12:24. With a sigh, he sat back and folded his arms around himself, daring to close his eyes for a few, sweet moments.

When he opened his eyes again he could see in his peripheral vision a vast, orange field fading into existence as subtly and quickly as a fog surpasses the anticline of a hill. Gently he cast his glance to the side and saw sitting in the seat next to him the form of a large, ovular cat. Grunting, he returned his attention to the tops of his knees and folded further into himself.

"Not you again," he sighed.

"_Delirium tremens is what they call it_," the cat replied in a smooth, yet booming baritone voice, "_You are experiencing delirium tremens_."

"Go away."

"_Did you know that I am a father?_"

"Fuck you."

"_I have two analytical truths, one of which contains a red substance. If you would consider sitting there for a just moment longer, there's something I wish to share with you_."

The dealer looked up to growl at the cat, but by the time he lifted his head, the image of the feline was gone. Instead, standing several feet away from the group of seats, a man in an unfitting business suit stood staring at him.

The stranger stood about six feet tall with cropped, slightly disarrayed black hair and rounded glasses. He held himself in a rather ill-mannered way, his posture bent slightly forward as though he carried a weight on his back. In his left hand was a briefcase, and in his right hand was a small piece of paper.

"Are you Mr. Horikoshi?" the man demanded. The timbre of his voice was drawling and monotonous with lolling vowels and a sloping intonation that failed to reach the question's appropriately sharp peaks. "Hyang-sung Horikoshi?"

The dealer glared at the stranger and stumbled up from his seat, balancing the majority of his weight to his good leg and tightening fists at his sides.

"Who the fuck told you that! Get outta here!" he gnashed. There was a reason why less than a handful of people on the face of the earth were able to match his face with his name. To be confronted with one of those people at this point meant that the person was aware of his past humiliation.

"Kiyoshi said you'd be here. I was a friend of Kano's and you can probably guess why I came all this way to find you," the man replied and held up the piece of paper he was holding.

The paper turned out to be a photograph. The picture was a snapshot image of several girls on a volleyball court. The girls were dressed in white shirts and red bloomers, common P.E. outfits for school. One girl with long black hair had been caught in mid jump, her hand having impacted the ball and sent it to the opposite side of the net. On the receiving end of the ball's path, a girl with shorter hair had dove to make a hit, though it didn't seem that she would reach the ball in time. Standing behind the lunging girl was a slightly taller girl with glasses, one hand propped to her hip and a disapproving scowl on her face. The focal point of the picture had been made with a red marker. On the left side of the photo, partially concealed behind the long-haired girl, the image of another girl had been circled several times.

Hyang-sung squinted his eyes to get a better look at the picture. Upon seeing the face of the highlighted girl, he swatted his arm out.

"No," he replied and took his seat once more, "I'm going home right now."

The stranger approached and set the picture on the seat beside him.

"She knows your face," he said, "If she talks, it's all over."

"Then why don't you take care of it?" Hyang-sung snapped.

"You know why. I wouldn't have come to you at all if you brother was still alive."

"Just shut up. You look at me and you think I'm in a condition to do anything?"

"Your involvement with Ms.Tanizaki was your own fault."

"I said I'm going home."

The stranger sighed and removed his glasses, using a handkerchief from his front pocket to give them a brief cleaning.

"I have to go," he said when he replaced the spectacles back in front of his eyes, "but in doing so I already trust that you'll do the right thing. I would hate to think about the possible repercussions that would occur if our system were to fall apart."

Hyang-sung looked at the man and snarled. He would have shot back up from his seat if it weren't for the amount of pain that his every motion caused him.

"Are you threatening me?" he demanded.

The stranger tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and instead withdrew a small business card, on the front of which was a single telephone number in the bottom right hand corner.

"Yes," he said curtly, tossing the card to the dealer before turning on his heel and making his way from the platform.

Hyang-sung growled and barely stopped himself from slamming the side of his fist into the back of the adjoining seat. He never should have come to Tokyo in the first place. He should have stayed in Osaka and let old matters die and rot as they were meant to, but no matter where he ran it seemed that his previous transgressions would always keep right at his heels.

Within a few moments his attention turned to the seat next to him, or more specifically to the picture that had been placed there. His lip curled to the sight of the photo, but nevertheless he reached over slowly and took it up between his fingers.

The anger rather faded from his expression as he got a better look at the marked girl in the photograph. In more ways than one she was the biggest mistake that he had ever made, but as messed up as he had become because of the events that had taken place in his life, he couldn't imagine how it must have been for her.

Sighing, he shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the top of his seat. Nothing should have ever been made into his problem. His brother shouldn't have died and left him with this kind of a loose end to tie up. It was true that the girl was an issue, but not necessarily his.

From somewhere off to his right he could hear the sound of an approaching train. The sound grew louder and louder until it filled the entire platform area with a deafening roar that died down to a squeal as the train came to a stop. Then the sets of double doors slid open with a prominent hiss and a cacophony of footsteps emerged from the doors and passed him by on their way to the stairs.

Hyang-sung cringed and opened his eyes to watch the people as they disappeared to the upper levels. He then looked down to the picture in his hand, then towards the train.

Thirty seconds later, the train doors slid shut and the train began to accelerate.

Hyang-sung watched the cabs until the tail lights disappeared around the bend of the tunnel. Smiling grimly, he rubbed the back of his neck and tucked the picture into the front pocket of his jeans. Then, stretching his arms over the top of the seats, he tipped his head back and expelled a slow, languid breath.

Along with the breath, he forced himself to let go of his anxieties. There was no use in running anymore. If dealing with the girl was the last thing he did, he could only concede that it would be an end most fitting for him. The world did, after all, spin backwards a little bit more each day.

* * *

Nyamo sighed and tossed her whistle and roll book down onto her desk. Taking a seat, she pulled out the desk's top drawer and removed a notepad and pen. Between the inside cover and first page of the notebook were a couple of folded sheets of paper, on which was printed a general list of the supplies that were kept in the gymnasium storage room. Nyamo took out these sheets and unfolded them, scanning carefully over the listed items.

The teacher sitting at the desk across from her looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

"Something wrong, Coach?" he asked, expecting the usual response. He had noticed that Nyamo had gotten extremely somber within the past few months and that she had only just started to return to work on a regular basis. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed the reason to be drug-related.

"Some supplies are missing from the gym," Nyamo replied without looking up from the papers.

"What kind of supplies?"

"Not really sure. I was down there this morning and noticed that the spare volley ball net was gone along with a couple of the softball bats. I'm going to have to take inventory after classes today."

"Weird," the man said, yawning and stretching his arms over his head, "Probably just kids. Who as a key to the locker?"

"Myself and the vice principal," Nyamo said. Previously it had been her habit to check the storage locker at least twice a month, always throwing away equipment that was no loner usable and making notes of any new supplies that would have to be ordered. However, with her thoughts focused more on matters outside of school, she had gotten a bit lax on this procedure.

At that moment, the double doors to the teachers' office were pushed open and a clerk from the administration office poked her head inside.

The clerk was not a staff member but rather a senior year student wearing a tag around her neck that labeled her as being on the job. Sometimes well-reputed students were given the chance to earn volunteer credit by offering their time to the school.

The clerk glanced quickly about the room before spotting Nyamo and smiling.

"Ms. Kurosawa," she said, lifting her hand to get the woman's attention.

Nyamo looked up and lifted her eyebrows inquisitively to the girl.

"Yes?" she replied.

"A call for you on line two."

"Thank you."

Nyamo stood up and went to the phone that was bolted to the wall at the far side of the room. For the practical purpose of keeping teachers focused on their work, individual phones were not allowed.

Picking up the receiver, Nyamo hit the second button down from the top on the phone and then brought the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she said, expecting the caller to be her mother again.

"Minamo?" a feminine voice replied from the other end.

A bit taken aback by the sound of Yukari's voice, Nyamo absently clenched her free hand into the collar of her shirt. Goosebumps raised along the tops of her arms as did the hair at the back of her neck.

"Yes?" she forced the audible response.

"This is Mrs. Tanizaki. How are you?"

"Oh!" Nyamo let go of her shirt and slumped her shoulders with relief. The reprieve was short-lived however, as a moment later she tensed back up. In terms of raising Hell, the only person who was better at it than Yukari was her mother. Nyamo only hoped that Mrs. Tanizaki had not called her with the purpose of breaking her into a million pieces, because it would have been very possible.

Keeping her voice calm and steady, Nyamo spoke on. "I'm all right. How about yourself? How's Korea?"

"It's wonderful, but I'm actually back in Tokyo now. I know this is a bit sudden, but I need to speak with you."

Nyamo turned and faced her back to the rest of the room, folding her unused arm around her midriff. There was no way that this didn't have anything to do with Yukari, but until her suspicions were confirmed it was safer to play ignorance.

"Um…ok. What can I do for you?" she replied, already dreading the answer.

"It's about Yukari."

"Yeah," her voice fell to just above a whisper.

"You know what's going on. If you have the time, I'd like you to come visit her."

Nyamo kept herself from sighing out loud. A part of her cowered when confronted with Mrs. Tanizaki's notorious bluntness, and the other part of her was grateful for it. Mrs. Tanizaki did not like to waste time, and this mannerism forced Nyamo to step up and meet it with matters of fact of her own instead of mumbling and stuttering as she really felt like doing at that moment.

"Did Yukari say that she wanted to see me?" she asked directly. She wasn't about to fall into any kind of familial trap. The last thing she wanted to be was Yukari's unpleasant surprise.

"No, I haven't mentioned it to her."

"I see," she said, squinting her eyes shut and rubbing her hand over one side of her face. Already she could imagine how smoothly that kind of a scene would blow over. If her last encounter with Yukari was any indication, Yukari probably still held a fair amount of animosity towards her for reasons that she herself could neither confirm nor deny.

"I would love to really, but…I mean…" she started, finally pushing up from the wall. She glanced down to the tops of her shoes and then over her shoulder to see if any of the other teachers were watching her. Several of the teachers caught less than split second of her gaze before turning back to what they were doing.

Nyamo turned back and shook her head slowly.

"I'm not sure how to put this," she said with the softest of humorless laughs, "Yukari and I haven't spoken in quite a while. I don't think that it would be such a good idea. Not yet."

"Yes, she told me you guys had a bit of a spat, but don't worry about it. The doctors say that she's getting better. She started physical therapy the other day and she's really coming along. The only thing is that she's not talking. I mean, she speaks of course, but she's not _talking_. I hate to put you in this position, but I couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to get her to talk about what happened. Both myself and her father have tried everything we can think of."

Nyamo bit back a groan. She was sure that she would have been able to get Yukari to talk, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to. The simple fact of the matter was that she didn't have the answers that she knew Yukari would demand. At the same time, she didn't want to avoid her best friend for the rest of her life. After a lengthy pause, at last she relented to the inevitable.

"All right," she sighed gently.

"Thank you very, very much Minamo! Yukari has an appointment for physical therapy tomorrow at the rehabilitation center just West of the local hospital. You know the one?"

"Yes, I can be there. What time?"

"The appointment ends at about three o'clock so come at that time. Yukari's mood is just better when she's been out of that awful hospital room for a while."

"All right. I'll see if I can make it."

"Wonderful! Thanks again!"

Nyamo hung up the phone and dropped her head into her hands. She wasn't ready to face Yukari again and she certainly wasn't ready to bring out such a humiliating aspect of her past that she had kept hidden so well and for so many years. Still, she decided that it was better to lay out every single one of her cards, even if it meant that Yukari would probably never look at her the same way again.

* * *

**Note:** Jade2009, I would hate to lose you as a reader, but if Yukari's condition really prevents you from enjoying the story then you should probably stop reading now. I'm not sure if anyone has noticed, but one of the story's main themes is the concept of change. Yukari's pregnancy was one of the main purposes I had in mind to close on this. It was a fitting challenge to the limitations of her character, and it will change a whole lot more than just her relationship with Nyamo. For better or for worse is up to the reader.

**Note note: **Oh yeah, as for the name of the OC, it was mentioned in episode five. I just took it and ran with it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I should be studying right now, so of course I'm doing this instead. This chapter contains more references to previously cut scenes, but not so much that nothing will make sense.

* * *

**Chapter 29**

_Yukari sat on the steps outside of her school's library. Dressed in a long skirt, turtle neck sweater, and brown trench coat, she held the edges of the coat closed over her knees with her other hand holding her cell phone to her ear. _

"_You guys already had finals didn't you?" she inquired into the phone, gazing up at the white snow clouds that had covered the early evening sky._

"_Yeah, last week," Nyamo's voice replied from the other end, "Yours are next week, right?"_

"_Yeah. I have one on Tuesday, two on Thursday, and one on Friday."_

"_Have you been studying?"_

"_Here and there. I work better under pressure." She paused and lowered her gaze to the small courtyard in front of her. A male student sat on a bench there, hunched over an open text book with one hand raked back through his hair. Absently she narrowed her eyes at him. "So what're you going to do now?"_

"_I'm still moving everything out of my dorm. I found a small apartment about five stops from here on the Marunouchi line. It's shitty, but it'll last me until I get a real job."_

"_Where'd you get the money for an apartment?"_

"_Saved up from part time jobs."_

"_Oh. Where are you going to look for a job now?"_

"_Not sure. I've managed to set up a few interviews. Seems like there's a lot of people looking for someone with a kinesiology degree. There's a gym looking for a personal trainer, but I don't think I'd like to deal with 'paying customers' all day. There's also a lab at the Sanno Hospital looking for someone a background in biomechanics, but I was told to stay far away from anything healthcare related. The other interview is at our old high school. They're looking for another P.E. teacher."_

"_Another one? How many does that make since we were there?"_

"_Well _you_ were the one that got Coach Mutsu fired. After Coach Yamada, I'm not sure."_

"_That jerk-off got himself fired, and it's a good thing too! The school should have thanked me for almost drowning."_

"_Didn't he just get transferred to another school though?"_

"_In Hiroshima I think, or Osaka. One of those places."_

"_Well anyway, I think that the most recent P.E. teacher quit and now the school has an opening."_

"_Yeah, I thought about going to a high school to teach, but I have a few other options I'm gonna look into first," Yukari lied. _

"_Didn't you want to become an interpreter for a hospital or something?"_

"_Yeah, but you have to go to medical school if you want to be competitive."_

"_Oh. Do you think that you'd look into working at our old high school?"_

"_Yeah, maybe. With my level of English proficiency they'd be fighting to give me a job as an English teacher."_

"_Or a Korean teacher, or a Spanish teacher, or a Tagalog teacher. Really, what languages do you _not_ know well enough to teach by now?" _

"_You're exaggerating, but I don't do Nilo-Saharan, Oto-Manguean, or Slavonic languages."_

"_English isn't a Slavic language?"_

"_No, it's Germanic, descended from Old English which descended from Old Low German. Weird because my German sucks as bad as my Italian."_

"_You're still way ahead of me on any of those. All right, I gotta go. Yoshi's here with the truck. You wanna do something this Friday after your final?"_

"_I can't. I already promised Shoichi I'd meet him at Shakey's in Shibuya."_

"_Oooh so you've finally got a date, huh?"_

"_Yeah, maybe."_

"_All right then. Call me and let me know how it goes. Good luck on your finals too."_

"_Thanks…Bye."_

_Yukari hit the 'end' button and lowered the phone. Snowflakes began to drift gently into the area._

_Despite the numbness at the backs of her legs, she didn't feel compelled to get up. She didn't want to go into the library to study, and she didn't want to take her final exams. Even though she hated school, she didn't want to graduate. The next few weeks would bring the end to her life as a student. From then on, she would be completely classified as an adult, but adulthood was a state of mind that she could not yet grasp. _

_Mulling over the conversation she had just had, she tucked her phone into her pocket. Of all the things that she had imagined doing with her life, she had never pictured herself becoming a teacher. The thought hadn't even seriously crossed her mind until just several moments ago, but it was better than nothing. Being a teacher was a lot of responsibility. Perhaps if she jumped into that responsibility, she would learn to how to become an adult in no time._

_The thought caused her to smirk softly. That way of thinking had almost drowned her once, and already she knew that becoming a teacher would be no different. She was not cut out for the role, but she had no other leads to follow. She had not done the research, made the phone calls, or taken the effort to get her foot into any other sort of doors. Why she had not done these essential things was not something she wanted to dwell on. She knew what she had been doing instead. _

_Rather than ponder her lack of foresight, she laced her fingers under her nose and directed her attention back to the student on the bench in the courtyard. How awful and wonderful it must have been to be him._

* * *

Outside the entrance of the rehabilitation center, Nyamo stood with her hands tucked in her coat pockets and a grim look set on her face. No matter how much she wanted to avoid this confrontation with Yukari, she knew that it had to happen sooner or later. 

After a morning of picking up the phone to call Mrs. Tanizaki and tell her that she would not be going to Yukari's appointment, she had finally decided that if she were to confront Yukari at all it would be best to do it at a time when Yukari could not resort to her two usual responses to tough situations, those responses being to either lash out or run away. Even if this meeting resulted in an absolute end to their friendship, at least it would be something that she would know. She would rather have an actual end than a life time of not knowing where she stood with her friend.

With no further use in delaying the inevitable, she took a deep breath and approached the double glass doors that separated her from the next step in her life. As many times as she had passed by the rehab center, she could never have imagined it to be the place where her relationship with Yukari would either reach a new level of understanding or break apart completely.

She pushed open the doors and stepped into the building. The center's first room was the check-in and waiting area. A single row of seats extended along the side walls, and two separate rows of seats were placed back-to-back in the center. At the far end of the room was a reception desk where two women sat, one registering an elderly patient and another holding a phone to her ear as she busily scribbled something down.

Nyamo scanned over the faces in the room and saw a variety of people, some obvious patients and others possible friends and family members. At the far end of the seats, sitting in the second to last chair, a familiar woman sat straight with her purse slung on one shoulder and her hands folded in her lap.

Mrs. Tanizaki sat stiffly, failing in her attempts to keep her eyes focused on a single point in the room. Her fingers were brought tight together to keep them from fidgeting and she sat on the very edge of her chair as though she expected to be there for no more than a moment longer. When she glanced towards the door, she caught sight of Nyamo and instantly rose to greet her.

Seeing that she had been spotted, Nyamo knew that there was no turning back. She forced a small grin and approached the older woman. Coming with three feet of her, she folded her hands and bowed slightly. As far as she knew, Mrs. Tanizaki had always looked favorably upon her and she wanted to keep it that way, especially now.

"Sorry if I'm a bit late," she said softly.

"It's all right. I was almost afraid that you wouldn't come," Mrs. Tanizaki replied with a small grin of her own. She motioned Nyamo to follow her when she turned and headed down a hallway just to the right of the reception desk. At the end of the hallway she stopped in front of two elevators, reaching up and pushing one of the 'down' buttons.

Nyamo followed the woman and stood beside her as they waited for the elevator. Unsure of what to say, she decided to remain silent instead of trying to start small talk. She didn't know what had transpired between the mother and daughter as of yet, but none of it was her business and she didn't want to risk straying into any subjects that could have been potentially volatile.

The silence stretched on with Mrs. Tanizaki looking at the numbers above the elevator. She had felt very awkward about asking Nyamo to come and speak with Yukari. She had almost been ashamed, having to request the assistance of Yukari's friend where she as Yukari's mother had failed to open a door of communication. She knew Yukari better than anyone, or so she had thought, but Yukari would have nothing more to do with her. Nyamo, being the only friend that Yukari had ever brought home, was the first person she had thought of to help with the situation.

At last the elevator doors slid open and the two women stepped inside where Mrs. Tanizaki pushed the 'B2' button.

After a few moments, she sighed softly. "I wish I knew what to say."

Nyamo glanced at the frowning profile of the older woman and was suddenly confronted with an unexpected glimpse of shared features between her and Yukari. Most of the time Nyamo could not see the specific differences between the mother and daughter because, of course, they were two different people who shared only so many chromosomes. However, once in a while one of them would do something or make a certain expression, such as the scowl that Mrs. Tanizaki currently made, that would leave no question of relation.

"You don't have to say anything," she replied and turned her attention back to the elevator doors.

"I just never imagined," Mrs. Tanizaki murmured, letting her train of thought get the best of her, "I mean, you always hear about warning signs."

A bit uncomfortable discussing the matter, Nyamo replied nonetheless politely. "It would have been hard to know where to look."

"I wasn't even around to look. I should have stayed with her instead of going with her father."

It was evident that Mrs. Tanizaki was looking for some kind of verbal consolation, but Nyamo couldn't think of any to give. She was not in a position to try and comfort a mother who had come dangerously close to losing a daughter. She could not empathize with such a situation, and any attempts she made would have sounded useless and empty. Instead, she changed the subject.

"How is Mr. Tanizaki by the way?" The elevator doors slid open and she motioned for Mrs. Tanizaki to exit first.

In doing so, Mrs. Tanizaki headed off to the right down a long hallway with a vinyl floor. The hallway extended about two hundred feet with several sets of double doors on either side. At the far end, a woman dressed in a one piece bathing suit and a towel wrapped around her waist was busy transferring items from a cart into a supply closet.

"He's doing all right," Mrs. Tanizaki replied, "but he's not saying much. I get the feeling that he just doesn't know what to do right now. He hasn't made much of an effort to visit Yukari and for the most part he just stays at home fixing things up. I don't think he can stomach the sight of her right now."

Nyamo cringed inwardly. So much for a graceful change of topic.

"Oh," she said plainly, suddenly having to extend her strides to stay beside the other woman. "What do you mean fixing up?"

"The house was a wreck when we got there, and I won't even mention the car. Yukari wouldn't say anything about it."

"I see."

Mrs. Tanizaki shook her head and rummaged through her purse for a handkerchief. "You know, I really should have stayed around instead of going off with him. I just thought that Yukari would have been able to take care of herself."

"She would have, if not for…the things that she got into."

"That's what I mean. Yukari was always a smart girl, and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother. Sure she was stupid sometimes, but never unintelligent you know? You see those stories on TV and you always think 'good thing I raised my child better than their parents raised theirs.' Yukari could have done so much more with her gift, but I was still proud of her when she became a teacher. No offense to teachers of course."

"It's ok. Yukari could have done a lot more than I ever could have."

"Having the talent is only half of it. I wish that she could have had your drive. Now look what she's gotten into. Busted up, addicted, and…pregnant," Mrs. Tanizaki expelled a distraught giggle, coming to a stop by the last set of doors on the right hand side. She dabbed a corner of the handkerchief to her eyes, having already promised herself that if she was going to cry then she would do it when she had more of a reason. Until then, she tried to remain optimistic about this meeting between Nyamo and her daughter.

Nyamo stopped by the door as well. Once again at a loss for words, she tucked her hands back into her pockets and remained stoic. Usually she was the perfect beam that could support just about any emotional weight, but not where this matter was concerned. She was not about step up to Mrs. Tanizaki as though she had the right to try and tell her that things would be fine.

Mrs. Tanizaki sniffed once and slipped the handkerchief back into her purse.

"I'll tell you right now, I don't know what to do about this." Her voice lowered almost to a whisper and she looked squarely at the dark haired woman. "The pregnancy, I mean. The doctors say that this baby isn't exactly good news."

Nyamo lowered her gaze for a moment before returning it to the flustered woman. After having unknowingly watched Yukari decay over the past several years, and then having almost watched her die, she did not even want to think about the possibility of Yukari's child being a nine-month time bomb.

"You shouldn't have to do anything about it. It's Yukari's decision," she remarked bluntly.

A bit taken aback, Mrs. Tanizaki blinked, then nodded vigorously and pointed her thumb to the door. "Well…she's in there. Aquatic therapy they call it. Everything's taken so much out of her that she can hardly support her own weight, but she's getting better. The doctors recommended this to keep her muscles from atrophying and to maintain a range of motion in her arms and legs. If she doesn't talk to you, I appreciate your help anyway."

"I'll see what I can do," Nyamo replied. She reached for the bar of the door and pushed both hands against it, entering into the room on the other side.

The room was an indoor pool with a tiled deck. The pool itself was about half the size of a normal one and was divided into three sections by two ropes of buoys. Against the far right wall were pieces of equipment ranging from Styrofoam arm and leg supports, water weights, medicine balls, support belts, float pads, and others. The swim coach in Nyamo made sure to check for the necessary safety items, which she located without problem. Several first aid kits were made handy in their boxes on the wall along with one defibrillator and a fire extinguisher.

In the middle section of the pool was an older woman in a dark blue bathing suit. Her back was to Nyamo and her arms were extended in front of her.

Holding onto the woman's arms was Yukari, wearing a pink and white suit with her hair tied back in a pony tail. The cast on her broken arm looked to have been covered with a special, form-fitting plastic that reached all the way to her upper arm where it was temporarily sealed. Similar seals would have been found over both of her legs along with five pound weights strapped to her ankles. Presently she was supported in the water by a back brace that kept her suspended, but not afloat.

"Just five more and then we'll try the other leg," the therapist was saying.

"What do you mean _just_ five more?" Yukari balked, "Why not fifty? How about a couple of hundred? Hell, there's nothing as savory as the feel of your bones grinding together!"

"It's not that bad, Ms. Tanizaki. Your legs will feel much better when we're done. "

"Well right now they feel like they're twisted backwards!"

"Don't worry. Just try to ignore the discomfort."

Yukari's expression fell bland as she looked at the therapist. Clearly the woman had never been crushed in an auto accident before.

Just as she opened her mouth to make a comment that would have related the therapist's intelligence to that of a box of rocks, she glanced over the woman's shoulder and saw Nyamo standing several yards away from the pool's edge. Having heard the door open and close she had assumed it to be her mother again, but seeing Nyamo brought a suddenly stony tension to her face. She pushed herself away from the therapist and reached for one of the support pads that had been floating nearby.

"All right, lady. Take a break and go outside," she snapped.

The therapist smiled gently and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but leaving a patient unattended in the pool area is strictly against policy."

Nyamo winced slightly to the resulting thwack of the support pad against the therapist's head. Several moments later she watched the therapist climb from the pool and make her way to the door, rubbing her head and muttering something as she left.

Yukari draped her arms over the support pad and turned in the water, facing her back to her friend. She regretted her last interaction with Nyamo, but just like everything else she regretted, the incident would soon be brushed out the door of her memory and deliberately forgotten.

Nyamo was slow to step up to the pool's edge. When she did, she watched Yukari with the expectation that she would say something. She assumed that if Yukari had not wanted to talk then she wouldn't have sent the therapist outside. Yet seconds wore on and the only sound to be heard was the gentle lapping of water against the side of the deck. Finally, her impulse got the better of her.

"Hey," she greeted casually.

Yukari averted her attention to her hands that remained across the support pad. Through the tight plastic on her right arm she could make out the bandage that covered the wounds at the back of her hand. Water had gotten through the plastic and the bandage was soaked. The cast would itch later and the bandage would have to be changed, as would the one over the back of her left hand.

"Hey," she replied after a moment. Nyamo's presence alone was enough to make her feel quite uncomfortable right then. She hated to be caught in such an emotionally and physically vulnerable condition and could only hope that Nyamo had not come with the intention of sympathizing and making her feel even more pathetic.

Nyamo lowered herself to sit cross legged on the deck. "Are you all right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yukari frowned over her shoulder at the woman, then looked back down to her hands. "I'm fine…You ask some stupid questions sometimes."

Nyamo made no reply and there came another long silence. She was sure that Yukari had done enough listening with her mother around and she was not going to lead any discussion that took place between them.

Finally Yukari gathered enough nerve to speak up again, albeit curtly. "I wasn't feeling well last time so I hope you're not expecting an apology."

"No. Are you?"

"I don't know. Should I?"

Nyamo sighed. Answering that question involved bringing to surface the darkest years of her life, and she was not about to discuss them while sitting there at the edge of a pool and looking at her listener's back.

"I was hoping that we could get together and talk some time," she said.

"About what?"

"Everything."

Yukari frowned over her shoulder, then looked back ahead. After a moment she replied. "I'm going home tomorrow."

"Are you ready?"

"I still have physical therapy twice a week, and drug testing at the hospital."

"Do you know for how long?"

"You said you wanted to talk so do you wanna come over tomorrow or not?"

"I came all this way today. The least you could do is look at me."

Yukari bared her teeth in a suddenly angry glare that melted back into a frown when she turned fully around. Facing Nyamo, her fingers dug hard into the material of the support pad. She didn't know how much, if at all, Nyamo was responsible for what had happened to her, and she could therefore not be confidently angry at her. Not having an appropriate target for her anger was frustrating enough, and without the right target, everything became a target.

Now able to get a better look at her friend, Nyamo examined her more carefully. Yukari looked a little better than she had three weeks ago, even though she was still slightly emaciated and the color of her skin was several shades too pale.

"Are you going to stay over there?" she asked, wishing to get a closer look.

"Don't patronize me!" Yukari snapped back, feeling a sudden surge of animosity.

"I wasn't patronizing you."

"So it didn't occur to you that if I had wanted to go over there then I would have? Is it your assumption that I can't make those kinds of decisions for myself? You think that you have to give me cues like I'm some kid who doesn't know what she's doing?"

"Nevermind," Nyamo sighed and got back up to her feet, "I'm not going to argue with you."

She tucked her hands back into her pockets and turned to make for the door. Already she could tell that Yukari was no more receptive than she was the last time they met, but this time there were no drugs to blame. Yukari was genuinely angry for the sake of being angry and Nyamo was not about to sit there and be her verbal punching bag. She had tried, but she could not open a door that did not want to be opened.

"Damn right you're not gonna argue with me!" Yukari shouted, "Who the Hell do you think you are anyway? You always talk about _me_ not changing since high school? You're the one who always tried to look out for me like I was someone who _needed_ that kind of help! Do you have any idea what that kinda shit can do to the self esteem of a perfectly competent human being?"

Nyamo stopped and slowly turned to look at the woman in absolute disbelief. The words gave her the distinct feeling that Yukari had been brooding over these matters for some time, and she'd be damned if she was going to let them go unchallenged.

"Yukari, I saved your ass from drowning back in high school, not to mention the fact that I also peeled your mangled body off the pavement three weeks ago. You'd be dead now if it weren't for me!"

"Well maybe _my_ ass isn't _yours_ to save! If it weren't for you then maybe I wouldn't have been on that pavement in the first place!"

The sheer implication of Yukari's statement was enough to knock Nyamo's mindset back one step. At first she wasn't sure if she had even heard the woman correctly, so preposterous was the claim.

"Are you," she started softly, eyes narrowing "trying to blame your drug use on me?"

"My dealer was working for Yukio who you knew back in high school. What the fuck am I supposed to think about that? How am I to know that I wasn't specifically targeted? Was he doing you a _favor_?"

The statement was enough to bring Nyamo storming back to the pool's edge with a warning set just beneath the surface of her furious glower.

"Don't even try that Yukari," she growled, "You don't know jack-shit about what you're talking about so just stay the Hell away from it."

"Who're you trying to convince?" Yukari smirked. It felt good to have someone to blame, even if blaming Nyamo didn't really make her feel good at all.

Nyamo's expression turned dark, though she refrained from saying something that she would later regret. Yukari's words did more than anger her. For the first time in their friendship, she was genuinely hurt by them, to know that Yukari assumed the worst of her after all this time.

"I'm not going to discuss this here. I'll be at your house tomorrow," she said and headed back towards the door.

"What, are you afraid that someone is going to hear us?" Yukari called after her, "That they'll hear about how the infallible Minamo Kurosawa has connections with a drug lord?"

Again Nyamo stopped and shot the woman a glare. "If you really feel that way then give me one good reason why I would want you put in this position. After all those times I tried to keep you out of trouble, why would I ask someone to do this to you?"

"Because you were tired of putting up with me!" Yukari shouted, slamming her left fist down into the water. "I always knew you were like the others just looking for a way to get rid of me! Did you actually think that I wouldn't find you out?"

It took only one second for the anger to fall from Nyamo's expression and she looked at her friend with a vague new sense of understanding. Like a cornered animal, Yukari was lashing out with the intention of pointing the blame finger away from herself. It wasn't the first time she had done it and Nyamo chided herself for not having picked up on it sooner.

"That is the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard come out of your mouth," she said in a softer tone, "What's wrong with you? You've made some outrageous claims in the past, but I'm starting to get the feeling that this isn't about me at all."

Yukari quickly turned her back to Nyamo, suddenly having to wipe her eyes against an insulting twinge of tears. Beneath her aimless resentment, she knew that Nyamo wouldn't have intentionally put her in harm's way, but right now that only made her feel worse. Every other person she tried to blame always tied back to Nyamo, and if she couldn't lay responsibility on Nyamo then she could only lay it on herself. Taking responsibility for her own actions was definitely not something that she was accustomed to. Right then she would have preferred that Nyamo stay angry at her. At least anger was something that she could deal with.

"Get out of here. You've done enough already," she muttered.

Nyamo stood silent for a minute and allowed the weight of the moment to sink in. She had never contemplated Yukari's actions beyond face value before. With slow steps she returned to the pool's edge.

"You don't believe that," she stated.

"Leave me alone!"

"Your parents said that you weren't speaking to them."

"Stop trying to change the subject!"

Nyamo rolled her eyes at the woman's stubbornness. Most women were all too happy to talk about their emotions or why they felt a certain way, but not Yukari.

"And what is 'the subject'?" she asked with no small amount of cynicism, "That your best high school friend who has always gone out of her way for you has actually been plotting the destruction of your life? That everything bad that happens to you is never your fault? That-"

Yukari growled and undid the strap of the belt around her waist, allowing herself to duck under water. Nyamo might not have been buying her defense, but that didn't mean that she had to stand there and get buried further into the dirt.

"Dammit!" Nyamo scowled and circled around to the other side of the pool. She was almost compelled to jump in the water and drag Yukari up to make her listen, but that would not have helped the tension between them. Coming to Yukari's facing side she stopped in the hopes of getting the woman's attention. "You can't turn your back on this, Yukari! You hear me? Stop running!"

Yukari remained submerged until she ran out of air. At the point she lifted her head just long enough to take in another deep breath, then ducked under again.

This happened twice before Nyamo finally gave in. Sighing, she turned on her heel and made for the door, even though was not done with Yukari by a long shot. Even if Yukari didn't want to talk, she sure as Hell was going to listen sooner or later.

Coming to the door, she shoved her hands against it and slammed it open.

Startled from the sound, Mrs. Tanizaki straightened from her slouched position against the opposite wall and looked hopefully at her.

"Well?" she asked.

Nyamo didn't break her pace but instead walked backwards to meet the woman's gaze. Still simmering with frustration, she only shrugged and lifted her hands helplessly.

"You were right," she said, "She talked, but she didn't say a damn thing."

* * *

**  
Note:** Yep. A few days from now, I'll realize that I posted this and wonder what in the Hell I was thinking. And to myself who is reading this now, I'm thinking that you need to stop messing around and get back to studying. 


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I'm back. To quote Joe Wenderoth: "I don't care what you attempt to determine, just that you do it politely and that you never give up hope."

**Note2:** This is the revised version of this chapter. The first version was mistakenly posted at two in the morning, and obviously so. Sorry to all those who were unwittingly subjected to it.

* * *

**Chapter 30**

_Yukari stared at the last sheet of her exam. Seventy multiple choice questions, and she had only been confident of about ten of her answers. _

_She bubbled in the last circle and then flipped the exam over to the front page. After checking that her information was correct, she sat quietly and drew the image of a screaming head on her desk. Time had gone by so fast, and now she could only indulge in the last few minutes of her life as a representation of the youthful student genre._

_When the number of students in the class dwindled down to five, she finally stood up and brought her test to the professor at the front. _

_The professor smiled and took the exam. _

"_Wait Yukari," he said, reaching under the surface of his podium, "I have some things for you."_

_Yukari waited, and within a moment was handed back all of the papers she had turned in throughout the semester and not accepted back for fear of the grade. At the top of the first paper was a 75._

"_Thanks," she mumbled and folded the papers together. _

_Leaving the classroom, she took her time walking to the end of the hallway. There, an exit sign glowed above a set of double glass doors. _

_She stopped just before reaching the doors and gazed outside. The night sky was clouded over, and by the glow of a nearby streetlamp she could see that it was still snowing._

_She sighed and tossed her papers into a nearby garbage can. There was no point in worrying anymore._

_

* * *

_

Yukio tossed a ball of paper to the trashcan by his desk. The ball missed its target by a foot and he frowned, turning his head away.

Contrary to what he had thought as a boy, having to wear an eye patch was not very cool. Not only did he now look like some stereotyped villain in a spy movie, but his depth perception was permanently impaired.

"What a mess," he grumbled, not in reference to the stacks of paperwork that littered his desk and spilled onto the floor.

It was nearing three in the morning and he was only just beginning to feel the effects of the acerbic liquid in bottle by his chair. He was sweating slightly and his hair was a mess as though he had combed it forward. His jacket had long ago been taken off and his shirt was open to the fourth button.

He slouched further back in his seat. His mind was not on work, and it hadn't been ever since his last contact with Minamo. He hadn't expected her to be on the bridge that night. He hadn't expected her to be anywhere at all.

No matter what kind of filth he came across in the course of his work, Minamo would always be the number one bane of his existence. He had genuinely cared about her, and that pissed him off to no end. Once upon a time he could have been happy with her, but that was before certain issues had arisen.

A knock came at the door and he lifted his head. "Come in."

The door opened and his foreign assistant stepped inside. Looking perfectly professional in a dark blue suit, the man's nose was still bandaged and he leaned his weight to a crutch on his left side. His right arm was set in a sling and he showed considerable favor to his broken knee.

"What is it, Mr. Petrov," Yukio acknowledged the burly man without so much as a blink.

"There's a man here to see you," Mr. Petrov replied, "Wouldn't say what he wanted."

Yukio sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Only the best kind of business came around at this hour, but the best kind of business wasn't always the best for him.

"Probably Kimura. Go ahead and send him in."

Mr. Petrov nodded and turned to lean out the door. He motioned to someone standing in the waiting room and then stepped aside to allow the visitor to enter.

Mr. Kimura strode in and made straight for Yukio's desk. Walking fast made his gait unnatural as though it were something he was still learning to do. His back was kept slouched and by looking at him, one would think that the briefcase in his hand weighed two hundred pounds.

Yukio remained slumped in his seat, twisting the chair side to side as he watched the man approach.

"Mr. Kimura. Will you sit down?" he invited and motioned to one of the two chairs on the other side of this desk.

Mr. Kimura took a seat and set his briefcase on the floor. He sat rigid and rested his forearms to his thighs. "Thank you, but you know that I never make social visits."

"I didn't expect this to be one. You've come with another job offer?"

"I wanted to speak with you about Mr. Horiskoshi."

Yukio stopped his twisting motion and arched an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The dealer that you've been tormenting. It's lucky for you that I was able to catch him before he left."

In an instant Yukio shot up and slammed his hands to his desk. "The Hell are you talking about, 'lucky for me?' I'd sooner have him dead."

Mr. Kimura frowned. "And if he dies then our plans fall through and you don't receive that latter portion of your payment. I'm tempted to say that you've lost concern for our operation."

Yukio sneered and slumped back into his seat, reaching for the bottle by the chair. Taking a brief swig, he then wiped his mouth and replied "Your 'operation' never mattered to me, and I think you're overestimating that guy's worth. He's a scum-scraping distributor and there are a million like him. Anyone can get the girl. A few thousand yen and I'll get one of my guys to pick her up no problem."

"I've seen how your men work," Kimura replied, his fingers tightening against his knees. "It would be sloppy and far too risky for this. You've already threatened the system's integrity by involving Ms. Tanizaki."

Yukio scowled and pointed at the man. "Yukari involved herself. All I did was lay the bait. It was personal business."

"Whatever your reasons were, Mr. Horikoshi is the only one left who can get close enough to the girl without raising her suspicion."

"Right. After what I heard, I'm sure she'll be more than happy to go along with him."

Kimura's jaw clenched. "She will. She's naïve."

"Sounds a little too convenient if you ask me." Yukio set his bottle on the desk and then reached into the bottom drawer. "Don't count on that girl's trust, and don't put so much trust in Horikoshi. He's just a junkie who loves being a victim. I got something better." From the drawer he brought out four tapes and set them in front of the benefactor.

Mr. Kimura leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. "What are those?"

"Security camera tapes from the bridge. I like to avoid bad publicity when I can, and Ms. Kurosawa does also. All I have to do is present the tapes to her and give her a choice. Either she helps us get the girl, or I have the tapes aired."

Kimura smirked and sat back. "From what I heard, those tapes would be more damaging to you than either of the teachers."

"Maybe, but teachers don't have immunity."

"Neither do you."

"I have money."

The smirk faded. "Absolutely not. From now on I want Ms. Kurosawa and Ms. Tanizaki out of the picture. Completely. I don't care what issues you have with either of them, you keep your distance. That also goes for Mr. Horikoshi. You seem to have forgotten that he works for us, not you."

Yukio lunged up and knocked aside the stacks of files from his desk. He thrust a finger at Kimura, ignoring the crash of his phone and lamp as they too were haphazardly sent from their positions.

"You don't tell me what to do. I don't work for you," he snarled.

Mr. Kimura, unfazed, grabbed his briefcase and stood up. Dealing with Yukio was difficult enough, but dealing with a drunken Yukio was more than he would be bothered with.

"Well you'd better start acting like it," he replied, "unless you enjoy reading about yourself in the papers. I won't repeat myself and I won't be coming here again." He turned and headed to the door.

"You can't do a damn thing to me," Yukio shouted.

Kimura stopped at the door with his hand on the knob. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned.

"No," his voice lowered, "but we both know of someone who can."

Yukio glared, leaning on his fists. In terms of business, Kimura didn't have anything on him that a dozen other people didn't already. That his hands were dirty was no secret, and that he always managed to worm out from under investigations with a little financial persuasion was also common knowledge in the right circles. He had enough dirty laundry to fill the Asahi newspaper for a week, but he also had his sensitive areas that he feared had been discovered by the wrong people. It was his own fault for having let his emotions get the better of him.

"Fine," he growled and waved the man off. "Do whatever you want. I don't care as long as I get paid. I'll have my men set up again and you just bring the girl."

Kimura smiled. "Good. As long as we're back on the same page. I'll let you know when to expect us."

Yukio hung his head and listened to the soft click of the door as Mr. Kimura exited.

Kimura's threat could have been nothing more than a bluff, but this time Yukio didn't feel compelled to challenge it. He never should have said anything about Yukari or Minamo.

He straightened and meandered to the back windows of his office. There he leaned his forehead to the glass and sighed.

"_He can't do anything."_

So what if Mr. Kimura had him figured out? So what if he knew that his disdain for Minamo was derived from latent feelings of affection? Two times now Minamo had nearly destroyed his life, and each time he felt as though he had become a better man because of it. He hated her, he wanted her dead, but he didn't want to hurt her. He had never wanted to hurt her, but she had forced it from him every time.

He pushed from the window and rubbed his hands to his face. Everything had been Yukari's fault. She was the one who was supposed to have suffered, and he wasn't through with her yet, neither her nor Minamo. As his father had always taught him, opportunity never knocked without reason.

* * *

Yukari laid supine on her bed with her hands pushed up under her night shirt. The room was dark and cool, and though she felt tired, she didn't feel compelled to fall asleep.

Now that she had officially made it through detox, she wanted nothing more than to go out and get one good hit to feel the rush that she had been missing for the past few months. A few phone calls to the right people would have made this an easy task, but instead she bit her lip and tried to trick her mind with pure air. Rehab still required two more weeks.

"You're already making this difficult for me," she whispered and slid her palms upward along her flat stomach.

Her physical condition was not the only reason that she was not ready for a baby. Even if she had planned the pregnancy, there would have been no magical transformation of her perspectives and behaviors that would have prepared her to take responsibility for another human life. She had never had any sympathy for children and had always associated them with cruel little monsters who took pleasure in the discomfort of others, namely herself. Her absolute worst fear was that if she were to have the child, it would one day see her as an inadequate adult just like everyone else.

"I could spare the both of us," she murmured and tucked her hands under her pillow. "Eventually this whole thing would be in the past. If you grow up, you might turn out to be some freak just like your father. Or even worse, you might end up like me. It's a lose-lose situation. If I don't kill you soon, a few months from now you might kill me. Why should I risk my life for you if you're just gonna turn out bad?"

Finding an abortion clinic wouldn't have proved difficult. With her recent medical records, an abortion might have been diagnosed as medically necessary. She could get rid of the child and move on with her life.

"_Life?"_

She frowned. She had nothing. She was disabled with no job, no money, and no contacts. Not even the bed she laid upon was hers, nor was anything else in the room. At twenty-five years old, she had built nothing for herself. She had already heard of her other friends growing up, maturing, and getting married. They had jobs and families, the beginnings of a future fulfilled. What she had were her parents and Nyamo, all of whom did a good job of making her feel like a worthless, burdensome bag of dirt.

She sighed and pushed up into a sitting position. She felt the need to run somewhere, but looking at the braces on her legs reminded her that just getting across the room took about five to eight minutes. She wouldn't be running anywhere for a very long time, if ever again.

At that moment the house's doorbell rang. She looked at her door and frowned. That had to be Nyamo.

"_Just go away."_

She laid back down and tugged the blankets over her head. As if the facts of life didn't make her feel low enough, the last thing she needed was a direct juxtaposition with someone who was supposed to be her equal but was actually far ahead of her.

* * *

Nyamo waited a minute and then rang the doorbell again. Her expression was colder than usual and she didn't feel bad for calling on the Tankizakis after eight in the evening.

She had helped many people with their problems, but even she of infinite patience could not avoid having limits. Yukari had been testing her for years, but this had to be the last time. She wasn't Superwoman. She didn't have an uncanny ability to solve problems, and she hated that she had been thrown into the middle of a dysfunctional family as though she did. She had already risked her life and job for Yukari, and she had nothing left to give except a recount of certain events which she still didn't feel were anyone else's business but her own. Yukari didn't need to know, and whether she had a right to know was still left in question.

The door was opened within a minute and Mr. Tanizaki stood on the other side. He grinned at Nyamo, a somewhat hollow expression that said he had been dealing with the worst of Yukari and her mother ever since yesterday.

"Hello, Nyamo," he greeted and stepped back to let her inside.

Nyamo slipped off her shoes and entered the house. She looked around, somewhat amazed at the change in atmosphere. The house had been cleaned and the air was no longer stagnant. There was a welcoming energy created by the sound of the TV in the living room and something boiling in the kitchen. Mrs. Tanizaki was in the other room talking to someone on the phone. Everything indicated a presence of life, something that hadn't been there even before Yukari's drastic change.

"Thank you for having me over," she said, hardly able to force a grin.

Mr. Tanizaki nodded as he shut the door. "It's all right. She's up in her room," he mumbled. He didn't look at Nyamo for any longer than he had to, and as though returning to important business from which he had been interrupted, he turned and shuffled into the living room.

Nyamo wasted no time with further formalities. She headed directly up the stairs and marched down the hall to Yukari's room. There she knocked on the door and waited three seconds before knocking again. She felt uncomfortable just being in the house and she wanted to get things over with as soon as possible.

When she received no response, she pushed open the door and invited herself inside. The room seemed colder than the rest of the house, but that was nothing new. It faced south and never got any direct sunlight. The room was dark so she reached over and flipped on the overhead light as she shut the door behind her. As an afterthought, she secured the lock.

Yukari held absolutely still when she heard the door open and shut, hardly even allowing herself to breath. She was sure that Nyamo would be angry after their argument yesterday. She tried to tell herself that the argument had been Nyamo's fault, but she still found herself fearing punishment.

The silence was not enough to faze Nyamo. She dropped her bag, and in four steps crossed the room to the bed. She grabbed hold of the top blanket and yanked it down, scowling at the woman underneath.

Yukari had not expected the sudden draft of cold air. At first she raised her arms over her face, but quickly dropped them when she decided that she wasn't going to cower in front of her friend. She pushed up on her hands and glared.

"What the Hell! I'm trying to sleep here," she shouted.

Nyamo moved to the foot of bed, balling up the blanket as she went. "You weren't sleeping," she replied smoothly.

"Hey!" Yukari reached for the blanket but was unable to grasp it before it was removed from the bed completely.

Nyamo tossed the blanket onto the floor and then returned to Yukari's side where she stood rigid.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," she snapped, "but don't go thinking that this is some kind of a pleasure visit on my part either."

Yukari tightened her fingers into the bed sheets. "No one forced you to come here. I only asked."

"You're right. Maybe I just came for the sake of my own conscience." Nyamo began to pace the length of the room, her eyes wandering the floor as a habit lest she trip or step on something, but the floor was clear, save for the small table in the center of it. On the table were several video games that had been stacked neatly along with a grammar book, notepad, and pencil.

She circled around the table, rubbing the back of her neck. This was going to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She tried to keep herself calm, but the more she thought about Yukari, the angrier she became. "I felt horrible. Really," she blurted. "That night when I found you, and Yukio was there. You can't imagine- I mean, at first I thought you were dead, and then I thought I was dead, and then I thought we were both going to die, and then I thought that none of it was even happening. It really was my worst nightmare."

Yukari scoffed, though she watched the woman warily. For a moment she wondered if Nyamo had been drinking. "_Your_ worst nightmare?"

Nyamo faced her and sneered. "Yes. Mine. _You _looked like death would have been a dream come true."

Yukari paused and then looked away, stung. She couldn't argue that the thought of death hadn't sounded appealing to her, especially throughout her ordeals in detox, but it made her feel worse to hear it acknowledged so bluntly by her friend. "Where the Hell did _that _come from?" she ventured, not really feeling as defiant as she sounded. Nyamo was acting erratic and the sight made her slightly uncomfortable.

Nyamo shook her head and rubbed a hand over her face, returning to her path around the table. "It doesn't matter now. I didn't come here to play 'who's more pathetic'."

"Then why did you come?"

"I'm wondering that myself. I tried to talk to you yesterday, but you didn't want to hear anything that I had to say. You said you wanted to know who Yukio is, but I'm starting to think that you don't really care who he is. You're just looking for someone to blame, and how convenient it is that you all of a sudden remembered him after all this time. Just in time to blame his actions on me."

Yukari shot her a look. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Again Nyamo stopped. "I'm calling you a person with a selective memory. I wish that I could be like you and just 'forget' about everything that had ever hurt me so that I wouldn't have to acknowledge it to other people. If I could do that, then I'd be telling you that I never knew Yukio. Who is he? Why, I never met the guy. There must be some mistake because nothing bad ever happens to me! I'm the envy of all my friends!"

"Stop it," Yukari snapped and dropped eye contact.

Nyamo approached the bed and propped her fists to the mattress. Leaning forward, she attempted to face suddenly shy woman. "Isn't that right? What about the culture fest, huh?"

"I said stop it!" Yukari shouted and clapped her hands to her ears.

Nyamo snuffed and straightened up. "It doesn't matter. Maybe it is my fault. I don't know. Whatever the reason, I know you want me to tell you about Yukio, and personally I'd have an easier time slicing open my chest cavity with a spoon. I'd rather be at home right now, maybe reading or watching TV. I don't want to be here, and I'd really like to stop worrying about you. I'd just like to have a good night's sleep and not get woken-" Her throat stopped up and she took a step back, shoving her fingers into her back pockets. There were other tings between them that she didn't want to admit, and now was not the time to think of them. Swallowing, she tried again. "…woken up by the thought of you."

Yukari had to wipe quickly at her eyes before she managed to look at her friend. She wasn't used to dealing with this side of Nyamo, and not knowing how to react put her at a loss.

Nyamo faced the door to keep Yukari from seeing her concern. She rubbed the back of her neck, shifting her weight back and forth. "I'm actually questioning myself. You've been making it clear ever since I met you that you never wanted my help, only my generosity. And now ever since you found out about Yukio, you've been shunning me like I'm some criminal without even offering me the benefit of the doubt. I'm actually wondering now why I ever spent so much time on you, why I stayed awake so many nights wondering if you were ok, or why I ever cared so much about you in the first place."

Yukari felt as though she had been slapped. Air was forced from her lungs as she tightened her fingers into the sheets. Again she turned away. She was sure that what Nyamo had just said was an indirect statement of detachment. She had finally broken Nyamo's patience, and there was no way that she could take back her actions. Nyamo was finally through with her, but it wasn't as though she hadn't been asking for it all these years. It was what she had wanted in the first place, to be cast off by Nyamo in order to prove to the world that she was the ultimate victim of uncontrollable circumstance. She wiped the grief from her face and did her best to look stoic as though she were the one who had stopped caring first.

"I never asked you to care," she murmured.

Nyamo narrowed her eyes and was surprised to feel her lip curl.

"You're right," she spat. "A part of me feels that I don't even owe you an explanation. I wasn't the one who fed your addiction, got you pregnant, or broke your legs, so why should I be here? Why should I always be the one to walk after you and clean up your messes like some maid? I was thinking that Yukio did this to get back at me, but even if he did, so what? I'm not his maid either and I shouldn't be held responsible for _his_ actions."

She started to pace again, but stopped when she noticed the stern look on Yukari's face. Glaring, she pointed at her. "Don't start that. I went far out of my way trying to find you, and the last thing I want to see is you laying around feeling sorry for yourself."

Yukari finally turned to set her feet on the floor. She would not be talked down to physically or otherwise, and especially not by Nyamo. Nyamo had already made her decision, and now she had one to make of her own.

"Like you have any room to talk," she snarled. "When was the last time you tried to wean off narcotics or deal with an unwanted pregnancy? When was the last time you were raped and beaten almost every day? You have no idea what I've been through so don't go telling _me_ how I should feel!"

Nyamo stormed to the bed and crouched in front of Yukari, wrapping both arms around her legs. She straightened and twisted her back onto the mattress, ignoring the resulting exclamation of pain.

"If Yukio was involved, I'm pretty sure I do," she replied sharply and stepped back. "You're right that I don't know what it's like to be an addict, and I don't know what it's like to be carrying some random guy's kid, but I do know what it's like to feel like a piece of shit that the world would be better off without. I know what it's like to be wrongfully attached to something that sucks the life right out of you, to want something that could kill you, and even though you know it could kill you, you feel like you can't- _shouldn't_- live without it. You feel like if it does kill you, then your death would be justified because you died doing what you hated to love, but loved anyway."

Yukari fell quiet and glared down at her lap. Nyamo had never acted so aggressively towards her and she wasn't sure of how far her friend was willing to take her anger. Nyamo had all but admitted that that she no longer wished to put up with her, and as far as Yukari was concerned, it was about time that Nyamo had wised up.

"I'm listening now," she whispered, "so just say what you have to say, and get out."

Nyamo turned and slumped down against the side of the bed. She bent her knees and rested her forearms on top of them. This was what she had come here for, and by golly if she wasn't going to do it. Yukari could hate her all she wanted and then the both of them would just have to deal with it. It was better than leaving things as they had been turned into. She didn't want to verbally beat Yukari so bad, but she couldn't say that it didn't make her feel just a little bit better.

"I'm not a good person, Yukari," she sighed.

Yukari lifted her head and frowned. "You?"

Nyamo almost grinned. "I knew you never really believed that I was bad, no matter how much you said it."

"Ripping tags off of pillows and tossing garbage into the wrong receptacle doesn't qualify as being bad."

"It was worse than that."

"Well don't try to convince me that you used to be an addict, or that you've been stealing money from the school all this time."

"No, but I did use you."

"What are you talking about? I never did anything for-"

Yukari caught herself and pressed her lips together, but the would-be statement didn't go unnoticed by Nyamo who smirked in response.

"I know," Nyamo replied. "but you have to know that I didn't like you all that much when we first met."

"It's about time you admitted it, but it's not like I forced you to hang out with me so don't go pointing fingers in my direction. All you ever had to say was 'no'."

"I know, but I didn't want to. You were a convenient excuse. Nothing more."

Yukari blinked, suddenly feeling very small. Even though she had always expected Nyamo to sever their friendship, there had always been a part of her that wanted to believe in the authenticity of her company. She thought back over some of their high school interactions. Walking home together, playful banter in the classroom, video games late into the night, all of it was as she had thought, but not perceived. She shifted down to lay on her side and face the wall. She had finally gotten what she wanted, but she hadn't expected it to taste so bad.

"Excuse for what," she inquired as though the question had been forced from her.

Nyamo's cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she leaned sideways to slip it out. Flipping it open and checking the number, but not recognizing it, she shut it off and snapped it closed again. She didn't need any interruptions. The quicker she got through this, the better it would be for both Yukari and herself.

"Yukio was my first boyfriend," she blurted. "Our parents unofficially arranged us and we were together for about two years. We broke up a few months after I met you." Her fingers tightened around the phone that she held between her knees, her eyes following the motion of a little grey cat figure that dangled from it.

Yukari was glad that Nyamo couldn't see the horrified look on her face. At the most she had hoped that Yukio was an old high school acquaintance. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, hoping to sound nonchalant instead of physically ill.

"A boyfriend is a pretty big thing to keep from a friend," she muttered.

Nyamo smirked and glanced over her shoulder. "I wasn't your friend back then. We might have gone out to movies and stuff, but our business was still our own." She turned back ahead and her voice softened. "I didn't tell anyone about Yukio. Only the girls on the swim team knew about him, and even then it was only because he would come to watch me practice sometimes."

Yukari felt cold. "So what happened?"

Nyamo paused and looked down. Her expression grew thoughtful. This was the part she had dreaded, peeling back layers of memories that she had buried so deep. She hated herself for having once thought of Yukio as a good person, and she hated herself even more for thinking that a part of him still was.

"At first," she started, "Yukio was more than I ever could have asked for in a boyfriend. He was brilliant, not bad looking, and very funny."

"Oh, wait. Lemme guess. He went psycho-possessive?"

She shook her head. "Not really. He never told me what to wear or who I could and couldn't hang out with. He was comfortable with me and he actually enjoyed showing me off. He had absolute confidence in me."

"_No." _

She paused and cleared her throat softly.She had promised herself that she was going to tell the truth, and that meant actually telling the whole truth.

"Absolute control over me," she corrected. "He knew that all I ever wanted to do was please him and make him happy, both him and my parents. The first year was all right I guess, but I remember the day when I smiled at him and he turned his head the other way. I felt like I had been punched. Maybe it was my fault that I had cared so much what he thought of me, but he had always been so good to me that I felt I owed it to him. I was convinced that my happiness would come vicariously through his, but our relationship only went downhill."

"Did he ever hit you?"

Nyamo picked at the carpet. The more she spoke, the worse she felt. She would have been fine emptying her mental pockets onto a psychologist or even a random stranger that she would never see again, but not Yukari. Somehow it didn't feel right.

"Only one time," she said. "He knew other ways to keep a grip on my life. He was already in good with my parents. His family was rich and everyone knew that if I stayed with him I'd be secure for the rest of my life. He used to talk about it all the time. He wanted to be a business tycoon like his father and he wanted me to be the woman standing behind him, raising his children and rubbing his feet after hard days. He talked more about marriage than any other boy I'd heard of."

"Your parents liked him?"

"If they had known what was going on then they would've demanded that Yukio never come around again. But I never said anything. I didn't want to disrupt the illusion."

"So what kind of stuff did he do?"

"Outside of school, he took up nearly all of my time. We went to different schools, but he knew when I went to lunch and he'd call me all the time to ask how or what I doing. It was behavior that I mistook as the actions of a caring boyfriend. When he couldn't get a hold of me, I'd hear about it in the evening when I met him after school. There were several times that he actually cut his afternoon classes to come to my school and make sure I was alright. He blamed me every time for worrying him, and I always felt awful."

Yukari made a face, though refrained from turning over. "And you don't count that as possessive behavior?"

Nyamo sighed and rubbed her hands to her face. "I don't know what it was. He scared easily, and I think his concern was genuine. It was just the way he loved me I guess. At any rate, the result was that I never did anything without first wondering if it would be alright with him. I lost my sense of self. I didn't feel like anyone without him."

Yukari almost wanted to roll her eyes. Maybe it was true that situations were always clearer from a second or third person point of view. "And you never even questioned this?"

"I didn't think that there was anything to question. He was always so confident, and with his way of speaking he could've convinced me of anything. I just couldn't doubt him, which was why I became a little too passive when he started using my dislikes against me."

"What kinds of dislikes?"

Nyamo tugged at the bottoms of her pant legs. She hadn't expected Yukari to take such an interest, much less ask such difficult questions. They were quickly touching upon areas that she hadn't wished to discuss, but at this point she couldn't leave anything hanging.

"My number one dislike was sex," she replied softly. "You can imagine why. I was never comfortable when I was with him, and he could always tell. It threatened his ego and pissed him off. I just didn't like men that way. After a while he stopped caring whether I enjoyed it or not, and sex became a punishment for when I was bad, which was suddenly all the time. Any little thing I did, and he would just…you know…" She trailed off, her skin suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

Yukari waited for something more, but when nothing came, she glanced at Nyamo over her shoulder, seeing her with her head bowed and hands twisting her phone between them. Her expression softened. She should have been able to think of something to say, some words of comfort or something else, but she didn't really feel compelled to do so. A new understanding had settled between them. Nyamo would not be fed off of anymore, and it was therefore Yukari's responsibility to stand on her own. Being on her own meant exactly that. From now on, they were each to themselves. She faced the wall again and frowned.

Nyamo collected her thoughts before continuing. "Things turned especially bad when I met you."

"Because of me?"

"Indirectly. You became another diversion of my time, but you were a person, not an activity. Yukio didn't appreciate it."

"I thought you said that he didn't tell you who you couldn't hang out with."

"He never told me to stop seeing you. He was just disappointed that I would 'go behind his back' and make a new friend without telling him."

"Yeah, like I was the only person you knew when you were with him."

"No, there were many people that I could have made more of an effort to contact. I just chose you."

"Why?"

"You remember the detention hall?"

Yukari shrugged. "Bits and pieces." It was a lie. That day was one that she couldn't forget no matter how desperately she tried.

"It was strange, the day when I went there. It was the first time in forever that I had done something without thinking about Yukio."

"So why me?"

"It seemed that everyone hated you that day in one way or another. I just had to see you. I wanted to know if you were really crazy, or if you were out of your mind with grief over what had been happening. I can't explain it, but when I went to the detention hall, I was hoping that I would find a girl distraught and sobbing her head off, wondering what would become of her social life now that she was nothing but a punch line. I wanted to find someone who was crushed. Someone who just might have had an inkling of an idea of what it meant to be isolated. Instead I found you."

Yukari made a face, not sure if she should have been insulted or not. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I tried to offer you comfort, but you didn't want any. You still don't want any. I wanted to be the one to step into your life and make you feel better, but really it was only for the sake of making myself feel better. You looked low enough on the social ladder that I thought there was no way you'd refuse, and I was right."

"Get off yourself. I probably just wanted a free lunch."

Nyamo shrugged. "I thought that too, but it didn't change how it made me feel. You have to understand what a huge thing it was for me to ask you in the first place. I needed something besides Yukio. Not a thing or an event, but a person that I could talk to normally, and when I asked you, I knew there was no turning back. I remember thinking 'maybe if I could just make her happy, then I won't feel so bad.' It wasn't until I left the detention hall that I fully realized what I had done. I got home about two hours later than usual."

"Was he pissed?"

She frowned and dropped her gaze. "Yes."

_Minamo shut the front door and kicked her shoes off at the threshold. She could hear the television in the living room and already anticipated Yukio to be sitting in his usual spot on the couch. The house smelled like cooked rice and the sound of rattling pots came from the kitchen._

_Indeed Yukio was there, sitting in the middle of the couch with his arms stretched across the back of it. He was frowning at a report being made on the news, but the expression broke when he heard the front door open and close. He leaned his head back to peer around the corner and grinned when he saw his girlfriend shuffle inside. _

_Minamo spotted his grin as she entered the living room and responded with a false one of her own. She could tell that she was in trouble for being so late, and she also knew that Yukio wouldn't say a word about it. The repercussion would come later when they were alone, but she had until then to try and pacify his temper. _

"_Where've you been," he asked pleasantly and pointed to his lap._

_Minamo dropped her book bag by the couch and circled around to stand in front of him. She then twisted and dropped down sideways into his lap, arms rising to circle around his neck. Being in such close proximity to him made her uncomfortable as though she were snuggling with a zombie._

"_The library, looking up something for a research project," she lied softly. _

_Yukio watched her and smoothed a hand over her hair. "You didn't tell me you'd be so late."_

"_I didn't know. We just got the assignment today."_

"_What's it on?"_

_Nyamo's mind raced for an answer. "It's for history class. An overview of the annexation of Okinawa."_

"_Sounds interesting. You'll let me read it when you finish?"_

"_Sure," Nyamo replied, doing a masterful job of swallowing her anxiety. Great. Now she actually had to write the paper._

_Her mother passed by the entrance of the kitchen but stopped when she spotted her daughter in the living room. _

"_Hey, Minamo. I didn't hear you come in. Where've you been at?" she chirped._

"_The library," Yukio replied, his gaze remaining with the girl._

_Minamo didn't feel one bit of the softness that she conveyed so well in her expression, but she couldn't let Yukio see her fear. If he saw her anxiety then he would know that she was lying, and she didn't want him to know about Yukari. She broke eye contact and leaned her head to his shoulder. _

"_Well, I've got some dinner cooking. It'll be ready in about thirty minutes if you're hungry," Mrs. Kurosawa replied before disappearing back around the corner._

_Yukio's arm draped over Minamo's lap and she felt his fingers tighten painfully into her side. She managed to keep her grin as she lowered her hand to his and tried to pry it away. He was pissed. So much so that she could almost feel his temperature rise and his body shake._

"_Don't be this way," she whispered. _

_Yukio canted his head and examined the girl like a connoisseur admiring a piece by his favorite artist. He stroked his free hand through her hair, a rough motion that caused his nails to scrape along her scalp. Within the same motion he clenched the hair at the back of her head and tugged downward, bringing his lips to her temple._

"_I love you," he whispered back and inhaled deeply the scent of her hair._

_Minamo's heart began to pound. Her fingers clamped into his wrist while her other arm tightened around his neck. She was trapped. She had known it would happen, and there she was. She had been asking for it when she had invited Yukari out, and now she had to follow through._

_The TV droned on in the background and her mother was humming from somewhere in the kitchen. There was a warm glow from the lights in the house, but everything felt cold and foreign. She wanted to cry, but instead she turned her head towards Yukio and brought their lips together. Her right hand slipped from around his neck and rested against his cheek. There was no one to help her._

"_Let's go upstairs," she murmured. She wanted to get it over with. If it didn't happen soon then it would just happen later._

_Yukio pulled back. His grin was icy. Minamo was never one to initiate any kind of sexual activity between them and it could only mean that something was definitely up. _

_Minamo met his gaze and swallowed hard, knowing that she had just been caught in her lie. She should have just told him the truth, but no. He would pry her open whether she told him or not._

_Yukio made one glance to the kitchen before slipping his arms under his girlfriend and standing from the couch. He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck._

"_Gotcha," he whispered._

_He kept Minamo in his grasp when he turned and strode from the living room. He took the stairs up two at a time and made straight for her room at the end of the hall. Upon entering the darkened area, he used his foot to shut the door and then set Minamo down in front of him. Immediately he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned to slam her against the wall. The whole of his weight impressed upon her and his right knee shoved up against the V of her legs._

_Minamo gripped the man at the elbows and forced herself to relax. She took deep breaths and leaned her head back to gaze at the ceiling. She could do this. She had to. She just had to convince herself that she had done nothing wrong. She had gone to the library, and that was all._

"_Bitch," she heard him growl as teeth sank into the side of her throat. _

_Yukio pushed her skirt up and slipped his fingers down into her underwear to grab handfuls of her ass. "Everything about you is a lie. I can smell it on you."_

_Minamo swallowed a gasp and tilted her head forward, her forehead touching the center of his chest._

"_I can't lie to you," she replied._

"_I know. You're terrible at it."_

_She closed her eyes and took several more deep breaths. The knee between her legs pulled back and she was left to stand on her own. The hands slipped out from under her skirt, and for one brief moment she thought that maybe he had lost interest this time. _

_Yukio put his hands to her shoulders and pushed down._

"_And all you want to do is hurt me," he whispered._

"_Never."_

_Minamo sank to her knees like a prisoner before the guillotine. Following due process, she grabbed Yukio's pants and tugged them down, then followed them with his boxers. Normally she would have rather taken a knife to her wrists than subject herself to what she was about to do. Both she and Yukio knew how much she hated it. She despised it, and to taste him meant to fall into her own personal Hell. Yet she was there and slipping her arms around the backs of his legs. She parted her lips, but was unable to look up._

_Yukio grinned and grabbed both hands into her hair. "Tell me."_

_Twenty minutes later, the room had grown quiet. A car passed by outside causing light to circle the room once._

_Yukio was flopped back on the bed. His pants were back up around his waist, but still unsecured. His shirt was open and his left arm was laid across his eyes._

_Minamo hadn't moved from her spot. She was slumped against the wall with her knees to her chest, her cheek resting to her arms. Everything from her face to the bottom of her throat hurt and she continued to fight the urge to gag. Her cheeks were wet, but her eyes weren't red or puffy. Her hair was a mess and the palm of her right hand was sticky._

"_You said her name's Yukari?" Yukio muttered._

"_Yes."_

"_Where'd you go?"_

"_Place by the station."_

_He rolled up from the bed and stood to refasten his shirt. "I'd like to meet her sometime. She sounds like a nice girl."_

_Minamo closed her eyes. "Ok."_

_He brushed past her and opened the door, then paused to glance back. "And Minamo?"_

_Minamo looked up and saw that the boy was grinning.._

"_I'm proud of you," he said and let the door fall shut between them._

Nyamo pushed to her feet and strode from the room, holding a hand over her mouth against the awful taste that had suddenly formed in it. Her mind's creation of the taste was one of the main reasons that she hated to conjure such memories of Yukio. No matter how far she managed to distance herself from him, his texture and flavor would likely be with her for the rest of her life, a stain on the carpet of her mind that she could hide, but never get rid of.

Yukari turned over when she heard the door open, and then listened to the slam of the bathroom door down the hall. This kind of problem was definitely something that she had no idea how to deal with. Nyamo was supposed to be the one with all the magic words of wisdom and advice, and she was in no position to try and help the helper.

* * *

**Note: **Kind of an abrupt place to end, but I'm cutting this chapter in half. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I'm back. For a while.

* * *

**Chapter 31**

"_You're going where?"_

_Yukari slumped into the seat across from her parents at the kitchen table. _

"_Korea," her mother answered. "We wanted to wait until you finished school to tell you."_

_Yukari blinked. "But wait. You don't just- I mean how long have you been thinking about this?"_

"_I was offered the position last year," Mr. Tanizaki replied. "It's better-paying and the work load isn't as large." _

"_But what about me? You can't just leave me here." Yukari's first thoughts were of well-prepared meals. She didn't think much of her mother but she thought the world of her cooking. _

"_Don't worry. You've got that interview at the school don't you?" asked her mother with that expectant half-grin that always pissed her off, the one that hinted there was something Yukari should psychically read into. _

"_Yeah but…I don't know. How long are you going to be gone?"_

"_For however long they need me."_

"_A few months?"_

"_Two to four years."_

_Yukari fell quiet and looked at the bowl of chestnuts in the center of the table. So her parents were leaving. Big deal. Hadn't she been waiting for something like this? She could handle herself. She paused and then looked to her father._

"_What about the car?"  
_

* * *

Nyamo washed her mouth out and splashed some water on her face.

_Idiot._

What a mess she'd gotten herself into. What was she doing? She shouldn't have come here tonight. It felt wrong, all of it. Completely and absurdly wrong. Yukari wasn't supposed to know any of the things she had just told her. It would change the dynamics of their entire relationship, one that at least Nyamo had worked very hard to maintain.

She splashed her face again with hot water.

Thoughts of Yukio. The taste of him. His texture. She had done a good job of leaving them all behind. But now she had dug them back up. All for Yukari? All for what?

She paused and glanced to the door. Yukari was still in her room waiting. Nyamo hadn't told her everything. Not the most important part of her relationship with Yukio, the part that had gone rotten and nearly eaten the both of them.

She dried off and checked her reflection, giving a slight tug to straighten her jacket. She could do this. She was going to do this. She had to.

Didn't she?

Why?

At once she banished the thought. She had come all the way to Yukari's house to bury this matter and she doubted she would ever find the willpower or the opportunity to do it again. She was going to tell Yukari everything and then let all matters be what they would. How ridiculous it would be if she turned her back now.

_Ridiculous. Who are you anyways?_

She was Nyamo of course. Nyamo Kurosawa, a successful physical education teacher and the object of much admiration from many students. She was an idol and a friend and a good coworker. She was trustworthy and emotionally sturdy. The living she made was good and so were the relationships she built with people. She wasn't some cowardly door mat. No abused girlfriends here. No awkward little girls with no sense of identity beyond those of their boyfriends. In the reflection that stared back at her there was only a strong and healthy young woman who had learned to stand up straight and look others in the eye. That's who she was. Now all she had to do was take the knife back up one more time. There was still one eye left to be gouged out.

Her stomach lurched and moment later she was on her knees and salivating into the toilet. Nothing left in her stomach but dry heaves which were almost as bad. This would make twice in a relatively short period of time that she had upped the contents of her stomach because of anxiety. Because of Yukari.

_Don't make me. Please._

Yukio. Mother fucking Yukio. Dammit, she didn't need this. She didn't need to be doing this. She got back up and rinsed her mouth out again.

_I'll just tell her the basics._

Yes, the basics. The day Yukari had walked in on them, that would do.

No it wouldn't.

She paced once and pushed a hand through her hair. It shouldn't have been this hard. They were just words and all she had to do was say them. Or maybe if she wrote them down instead. But even writing required conjuring memories, and she knew the more she dug the more she would find and the more she would have to work on burying again later.

She turned to the sink and gripped the edges of it. Her teeth bore on each other.

_Let's do this. _

Just once. That's all it would take. She could blurt out the rest and then run from the room. Besides, it wasn't like saying it to Yukari was such a big deal.

Actually it was a very big deal. It was everything. Somehow Yukari was everything. Why should Yukari have meant so much? Look at what she'd turned into. Was that the same woman who had gone to her house that night and-

Nyamo shook her head. That had been another mistake and an entirely different matter. She shouldn't have slept with Yukari but-

_Don't think about it. _

She shook her head. This evening was not going to be about Yukari and herself. It was about herself and Yukio.

_Yukio._

Even his name-

"I'm telling her," she whispered and went to the door.

She threw open the door like an action heroine feeling the rush of her last great feat. She had to save the world. Everyone was looking up to her now and they had no idea how weak she really was.

She ran down the stairs and shoved her feet into her shoes. This was her finest moment. She bailed out the door and sprinted out onto the street.

Yukari didn't blink. She had heard the footsteps and the front door and knew what had just happened. So that's how it was going to be. Nyamo was going to tuck tail and run.

Surprising, she thought.

She exhaled and gently turned onto her back. What did she feel now? She had to concentrate on this. For the past ten minutes she had been holding her breath in intervals and trying to digest everything that Nyamo had told her so far. It had felt very odd and Nyamo's sudden leave had been her only liberation. Should she have felt sadness now? Confusion? Had she really wanted to hear the rest of Nyamo's story?

The story had made her curious but overall she decided that she was actually relieved to be removed from the position of Listener. She wasn't used to being the one to offer comfort, if that's what Nyamo had been looking for but it hadn't seemed like it.

Either way the entire situation had been too awkward. Never again did she want Nyamo to unload her problems onto her. She didn't want to think about Nyamo's troubles because she had enough of her own. Maybe if she had been a better person or maybe if the circumstances had been different then she would have asked more questions or expressed how sorry she was. She was sorry, but she was sorry for a lot of things.

It was over now. Incomplete, but over. Everything had just gone to shit and there was nothing else to do but leave it behind. She had to look forward now and think about what she was going to do. The future was all that mattered.

Carefully she sat up and looked at her stomach. Everyone was against her on this. Even Nyamo. No one had said anything to her face but she could tell what they were all thinking. No one believed that she had the ability to take care of this child. Maybe she didn't. At least not as she was now. But she was doing things differently from now on. No matter what she had to do, she would prove them wrong. She wasn't going to get an abortion. Even if having this child would end up killing her in the end, well, she had already endured much worse.

Yes. She was going to have this child and she was going to take care of it. If that didn't shut them all up then nothing would. And relying on any of them for anything was out of the question. She was going to do this herself. The New Yukari Way.

She lifted her shirt and rested her hands to her belly.

"You and me," she whispered. "We're gonna get by. Fuck Nyamo. Fuck the rest of them. It's about us now."

Even if she had to kill someone to do it, though she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

She leaned back and gazed toward the opposite wall. What could she do now? She needed money. Prostitution was absolutely out of the question and so was asking for loans. She also knew her teaching career was over. She had hated teaching in the first place.

She needed a job and then she would need a new place to stay. Living here with her parents was almost as bad as living with her dealer.

Is this what it means to grow up, she wondered. How awful. How absolutely awful.

* * *

Nyamo fell against her door. She wrestled to get her keys out and get the right one into the keyhole.

Once inside she slammed the door shut and secured all of the locks, even the chain. She was already crying and laughing at the same time.

"Real fucking graceful. Bet they won't even notice."

She had officially let herself down. Or was that really the case? Maybe she had just saved herself. If Yukari never spoke of what had happened between them tonight then maybe she could pretend that it had never happened at all. She could brush it under the mat and smile while she sat on top of it quite comfortably.

She wiped at her face as she staggered slowly into the center of the room. Was this what it felt like to be Yukari? To have done something so horrible. Or perhaps she could convince herself that it wasn't so horrible. After all, what had she done? She hadn't told Yukari everything. Was it such a problem?

Extremely unexpected. Completely against everything she had wanted to happen.

Don't think about it, she told herself and sat on the edge of the bed. Her knee began to bounce. She felt as though she had just broken a law and the police were going to catch her at any moment.

But the only law she had broken had been a law unto her character. She never backed down from anything. Not anymore. What had she just done? She had run and she suddenly felt the urge to go outside and keep running. She needed to be someplace far. Far away from Yukari and everything else. She had brought too much to the surface tonight and nothing was clean anymore.

She looked around her apartment. This was her. This was who she was now. No more Yukio or anything. No more Yukari either.

She got up and went to her closet and began tossing out some clothes. Enough was enough. She had to leave this place.

* * *

Yukari checked the time. 3:24AM and she was still wide awake. 

She wasn't just awake. She was excited. A plan had come together but she wasn't sure if it would work yet.

The world was not entirely empty. There was still one last person to whom she could turn for what she decided to call 'assistance.' He was but a faint shadow now and from where she was sitting there was no way to tell if he would even be available. But she would try. She was not just going to lay here and continue to be the fish that wriggled on the end of someone else's hook.

She was laying the bait from now on. She was taking control, and if the circumstances were right then she could do it all with a laugh and a pretty smile.

* * *

**Note: **Whew. My apologies. Might edit this one later. 


	32. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any Azumanga Daioh characters.

**Note:** I can't believe I'm doing this, but I gotta wrap this up. I started this story in my first semester of college and it seems fitting that I should end it in these weeks before I graduate. Now that I think about it, not too long ago I was two steps away from becoming an immature, 25 year old, self-loathing high school English teacher in Japan. It sounds crazy but I think writing out certain things in this story has become one of the reasons I've taken more responsibility for my life. Maybe fan fiction has its uses after all. But this website still kinda sucks. Go to fos-ff dot net instead.

* * *

**Epilogue**

_Yukari gently pulled open the door of the classroom and slid inside. She walked to the desk and set down her record book, looking out over the students. The students stared back._

"_My name is Yukari Tanizaki," she said and forced a smile because that's what teachers did. "I'm your homeroom teacher."_

"_Good morning, Miss Yukari," said a girl sitting in the front row._

_Holy mother fucking god on a stick._

_Miss Yukari._

_She froze. What was she doing up here, she wondered. Was she really supposed to take responsibility for these students in the way that she remembered her own homeroom teacher doing for her not four years ago? These students were looking up to her now in a way that frightened her terribly. Were there to be an emergency, would they turn to her for help? Because in case of an emergency, she knew she'd be the first one out the door and leaving them all to fend for themselves. Fuck 'em._

_She wasn't ready. She couldn't be a pillar of maturity for these kids. Hell, every time she rode on an escalator she still felt a desire to climb it in the opposite direction. She still played video games and she still liked to go out and party. She liked to get drunk. How many of her own teachers had been like this?_

_Holy hell, she was a teacher. This caused her to think deeply about herself: She was an infrequent drug user. And a teacher. Everyone who knew her knew she had a tendency to whine and get angry like a child when she didn't get her way. And now she was a teacher. She was passive-aggressive and defiant when she was upset. And now she was a teacher. She was incredibly dissatisfied with her life and was only made angrier by the fact that she had no one to blame but herself._

"_Well," she began and opened her roll book. "I guess I'll take attendance."_

_Fuck. Thirty students? What a waste of time. She pointed to the student right in front of her desk, a round boy with a buzz cut._

"_You, fatty," she said. "Take roll would ya? I gotta go see somethin' real quick." And with that she left the room, ignoring the thirty odd glances that followed her._

_Teacher be damned. At the very least she could make sure that she wouldn't be the only one suffering._

* * *

Nyamo grabbed the bag of groceries from the back seat of her car. Juggling the groceries with her back pack and gym bag she made her way up the stairs to her door and fumbled for her keys.

Today had been a good day. She'd gotten in four miles after school, paid her utility bill, gotten her shopping out of the way, and now she had an hour to shower and get dressed before she had to meet Eiko for a drink in Shinjuku.

Once inside she set her bags by the door and then went into the kitchen to put all the groceries away. Bread, milk, salmon fillets, mango pudding, coffee grounds-

_Shit. Mail._

She finished with the groceries and then hurried back out the door in her socks, going on tip toe all the way to the mail boxes that stood between the parking lot and the main road. Once at her mail box she punched in her code and opened the door to retrieve her mail which she shuffled through on her way back, nearly tripping over an orange cat that had been sunning itself by the first step.

_Bill, bill, advertisement, bill, catalogue. I don't remember ordering anything from them. What's this?_

Amid the bills and spam was a shorter envelope with her name and address hand written across the front. In the corner was a stamp with a picture of two birds cuddling on a branch, and in the other was Yukari's address. Distracted by this she barely avoided running into her door, grappling for the knob and letting herself inside.

_Yukari?_

She was suspicious at once and her lip curled. Now what manner of rubbish was that woman up to now?

It had been four months since Nyamo had run from Yukari's house and her life was already once again back on track. After being reprimanded for her unprofessional behavior, unapproved extensions of leave, and a vacation to Hokkaido taken on short notice, she was back to teaching five days a week: basketball, volleyball, track, swim club. This was the material that composed her life, what she wanted to compose her life. She was Nyamo Kurosawa. Just today a girl had to come to her for relationship advice. Ah, to be the shoulder for those who actually needed and deserved it.

She sighed and plopped down on the edge of her bed, turning the envelope this way and that. Should she even open it? Perhaps she was a little curious as to what it could be, though she was sure it wasn't an apology or any sort of confession on Yukari's part. Yukari wouldn't have done that. She was too proud. Too defensive.

Knowing that envelope would have just burned a hole in her brain, Nyamo tore the top open and yanked out the letter inside.

It wasn't a letter. It wasn't even a greeting card. It was one card a little bigger than a post card and a made of a slightly thicker form of paper with a designer border and everything. Nyamo turned it right side up to read.

_Yukari Tanizaki and Shoichi Saito _

_together with their parents invite you_

_to join them in celebrating_

_their marriage on Saturday the-_

Nyamo shot up. "Fucking hell!"

Marriage?

_Marriage?_

_And who the fuck is Shoichi?_

This couldn't be serious. Who was this Shoichi person who Yukari could have gotten to marry her within a such short span of time? And who was he to marry her despite her pregnancy with a schizophrenic drug dealer's kid?

She read the rest of the invitation but there was nothing of further interest. In the envelope there was a smaller card with a return envelope for her RSVP.

She paced the room. This was too much. Yukari couldn't get married.

_Married? Yukari? She can't even do her own laundry!_

It was almost laughable. Actually Nyamo did find herself laughing. She slumped onto her bed and tossed the invitation to the floor, if indeed it was an actual invitation and not Yukari's last desperate attempt to get some attention.

Either way, Nyamo had already promised herself that she was through being fed off of. She was done with Yukari and everything involving her. So what if Yukari was going to have a shotgun wedding? It wasn't Nyamo's problem. Nyamo's only problem right now was what she was going to wear to meet Eiko. Yukari was a big girl and would have to face the consequences of whatever choices she made. She would make mistakes and maybe Nyamo would be there to see them and maybe she wouldn't.

She tossed the invitation into the trash and then went to get ready for her date.

_Yukari, what am I going to do with you?_

She wondered, and the answer came to her then and she smiled softly.

_Nothing._

Because no matter what, she knew everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

**Note:** That's the end of Control but not the end of the story. The sequel has long since been planned out but I have other loose ends to tie up first. It's strange. A lot of crap has happened during the course of this story, some of which actually made it into the story itself. Ah well. If you made it this far then I at least hope you enjoyed it. It was certainly a ride for me.


End file.
